Back into the World of Jaggedness
Author’s Note:
Today you will go on a journey. A journey through time.
Time is measured in memories; bits and pieces of floating wisps you can’t seem to catch – each one changing and shifting the more you focus, and sometimes straying farther the closer you get.
In the end it is never the ‘when’ that matters but the ‘what’ of all the moments lived. So, if the passing of time is irrelevant and memory sacred, why is the past recalled as long gone. If memory never dies, then the past never ceases to exist, but rather lives and breathes as we within it.
Today, I ask you to get lost in the world of memory and forget when you are.
Our lives are composed of fragments. Fragments of memory that linger in the air of our minds, like ghosts in castles.
History is the ghost caught between the castle stones. As each one calls you to it, you must listen and learn their stories to set them free. But, before all else, you must complete the puzzle of time to solve the mystery that is history.
ACT 3 RIGHT PLACE, WRONG MOMENT ACT 1 DESTROY ACT 6 YOU WILL NEVER KNOW ACT 4 DOUBLE EDGED ACT 2 FOLLOW ME ACT 5 YOU WILL DISAPPEAR HERE
The Book: Read me in order. [Reader follows]
“[A]s much as my rational mind rebelled against the idea, I knew in my heart that I was no longer in the 20th century.”
RIGHT PLACE, WRONG MOMENT
Sites or scenes always remains consistent, but the stories within them shift. One moment you can go anywhere do anything and the next you can’t.
This act is stable, but the memories within it aren’t. We are simply stumbling upon an unfortunate time.
[Laugh, gasp for air as you talk]
Imagine [laugh] you’re pooping, [laugh] and the toilet, just [laugh] slides down the hill, [laugh harder] and then there’s poop everywhere! [Laugh hysterically]
“Why would they lock up this portion, you can’t even see the top half.”
“Because you can die...”
DESTROY
In quantum entanglement, two particles, through a channel will communicate with each other regardless of location.
As the iron melts and becomes a tool, then melts again and gets reshaped… those memories of being do not cease, they continue to communicate and are embedded in the very essence that constitutes its purpose.
To exist in one reality is to break from another, but not completely disappear.
What for d’you yearn?
It’s the point of no return
After everything we did, we saw You turned your back on me
What for d’you yearn?
Watch that butcher burn
At the end of my days when I’m through No word that I’ve written will ring quite as true as “burn!”
Burn, butcher, burn Burn, butcher, burn Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn
Watch me burn all the memories of you
the isles.
I still need to see
“Can you just tell me what to do?
Where should I look? ...
Fuck! I got hair in my eye - wait.”
ACT 6
YOU WILL NEVER KNOW
The architecture of the brain is intriguing. Small cues in the world around us spark vivid memories with senses that recall the smallest detail in about half a second.
But the brain is also easily manipulated, formulating its own sequence of events that often get distorted. As we recall, I wonder if we have ever thought about this minute distortion and whether the memory has been perfectly archived or not.
Perhaps we will never know… will there always be these multiple faces to a single moment?
Walls have ears, Doors have eyes. Trees have voices, Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain, Beware the snow,
Beware the man you think you know.
Ask, and it shall be given you; Seek, and ye shall find;
Knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh.
C: That didn’t look very fair.
D: I taught you this game, lad!
J: Aye, ye did.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.
“Did it work because of the spell? Or was it just plain stupidity...?”
“Maybe both, who knows...”
DOUBLE EDGED
Is it not ironic, that a memory is from the past, but when recalled it is the present and happens once more. Seems self-contradicting if one really thinks about it.
