Sunday, 18 September 2011

Chimera.

It is uncanny how you are every protagonist I've encountered in the books I read before I go to bed. The serious English schoolboy with a club foot, the dirty old islander of many worrying fetishes, a six foot dwarf unequipped for irony, a Brazilian Alpha male who cries at the drop of a hat. Sometimes you're even the women in my books. For years I wondered how you could be all of these people; was I desperately in love with you and just didn't know it yet? Or did I know you so well, I could seek out these kernels of your astronomical personality as unapparent as they were to everybody else. But it isn't either. Quite the opposite, actually. Your face is a blank mask that doesn't twitch, not even when I'm in pain. You are these protagonists in one way and one way alone - you are all creatures cobbled together from imagination, meant to be romanced and then let go of. And when I shut my books, you crumple in a lifeless heap. Reality is no place for your kind.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

i wonder why this post is titled 'Chimera'!!!

payal.k said...

This is a poignant and yet insanely beautiful post. And like I must have said somewhere else on this blog, it is an absolutely terrific blog and you are one of the best writers I have ever come across! :) Cheers

Gyurkovics said...

Thank you, I'm very flattered. :)

The Dictionary said...

@Anyonymous
Chimera -n /kīˈmi(ə)rə/
A grotesque product of the imagination.

shaista said...

hah! the only resemblance that came to my mind wid the title of the blog was the name of the virus in MI2.

Gyurkovics said...

"A fanciful mental illusion or fabrication."

I meant it in its loosest sense.

Aamna said...

"And when I shut my books, you crumple in a lifeless heap. Reality is no place for your kind."

Beautiful.

Veda said...

I see Carrot here. Also, intriguing post.