Firstly, there was the boy. At some predetermined juncture, there came the dreams. From that point it was irrevocably set in motion – this perpetual state of, driven search? A questionable meandering through volatile emotional states, illogical choices and a wholeheartedly embraced, variable disregard for the norm.
A seemingly unnatural and inward-looking objectivity was married (and not by choice) to this already precarious state of affairs. Collectively this all makes for a fairly, unlikely, platform from which to engage, in the events that unfolded.
Was it there when the blood was flowing? When the lips of the unwitting patrons of true love parted? Stars wheeled overhead and sunlight poured through rain, as light and time swept through a cinematic landscape. Poetic insight and helpless depravity both failed to discern it, as ‘modern day omens’ and uncanny anomalies grew increasingly commonplace.
A systematic and critical perspective, too wavered when the case was called for closure.
What was he so afraid of?
With miles left untraversed I propose a mundane theory; the concept is quite well defined, in a word I know as: emptiness.