On Disfigured Self

A city is a concept, just like you are.

A city is built upon a concept, an abstract idea materialised into something visible, something street-like, people-like, dam-like, park-like, housing-like. The concept lays the foundation, paves the threshold, applies rules and protects its own inhabitants.

You enter a certain city, you begin to introduce yourself to a new concept. You drink its water, you breathe its air, you eat its dust, you smell its trees, you stare at its clouds, you ruin its language through your tongue.

You begin to recognise which part of the city that evokes your concept of boredom, and which part of it that rouses your concept of fascination. You sleep with the foreign concept while masturbating with the image of your old stripped concept.

You think of other cities and you care not to dream of certain others.

Your mind is filled with different concepts, and the homelessness of your soul starts to disrupt the very being of your existence.

Then you start to see yourself as a concept, as a clay reshaped, reformed, and recoloured by the intermingling of those concepts of cities.

You are a vessel that holds constantly spinning disfigured concepts.

You don’t know how it all started, and you wonder at which point it’ll end.

1 Thought.

  1. Pingback: My Jakarta Story |

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