Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

What are my fears? and do I project them willfully on the unsuspecting passersby. Do I live in a glass case of my own design–a gorilla of insurmountable mass–tormented by the reflections as night begins to fall? Who have I become in this narcissistic mumbling of emotion and long distant yearning for pain and castigation. Having learnt how to let emotion flow freely, how do I release my own emotions from the proximal gated community within which I live?

This impregnable glass showcase, this very merry zoo on a lonely London street: did I build it for my own protection, so my wares would not be pilfered? Did I place myself on an upscale street, so that my value would improve with the stature of my neighbours. Did I build my house from storefront glass to contrast with the neighbours limestone flats… adding to my importance and visual appeal? Was it because I thought, this building faces north, so I should catch as much light as I can?

The stage it appears, is set, and I have invited myself to dinner.

As a material, glass is phenomenal; because one’s experience of its material properties change between day and night. In the daytime, assuming the natural light source on the street is brighter than the light within your own cavernous recess, then–from within–you can see everything on the road with a profound and almost transparent ease. You become a participant observer in your own life: a watcher of storefront television.

At first a few cars may pass, a taxi may be parked, the building across the street will not move, and the people going about their merry way, with Jack Russell Terriers or laden bags of groceries will not matter… because they will not see you; they will only see their adjacency reflected.

You will on the other hand, remain invisible; hidden as it were, by your own pane.

Alas, this is a transient place: wherein autumn quickly falls, on the dawn of your own imaginings, as immutably long nights approach with errant haste.

And in those nights, when artificial light is needed to find your way around your urban cave, you will see yourself illuminated my your own self perception: for all on the road to see. It is for this reason, one is advised not to throw calcified projectiles for all to see.

What do you mean “for all to see?” I thought you said we were invisible in here? Ah but as only time and experience spent on the otherside of existence can reveal… as the witching hour approaches, and daylight is replaced with twilight and the golden glow of bromide streetlights… that this powerful pane, in its duplicity, reveals to the world with the shimmering brilliance of a razer-sharp sword, the polished reflection of that light within.

You see, it is all a matter of relative perspective; like a tennis game, linked only by the impermanence of a well-taut yet highly strung net.