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Worshipping Lali

Disintegration

Perhaps it is time to call a truce. Perhaps it is time to organize many spontaneous expeditions into the realms of the ‘Other’, the final frontier. Some say love will ferry us there; others say a new kind of feminine society will do away with the impregnable chasms of ossified difference. Whatever vehicle we prefer, we can stay here no longer – trapped as we are behind these walls of separation. For the sake of our ‘evolution’, we can no longer abide the choking atmosphere of safety, the silent chuckle of dumbed down sanity. We must traverse the known lands into strange horizons; we must embrace our shadows and relax our tense strongholds in defense of these empires of inherited anger. We must break down – much like the ones we call ‘depressed’ do over and over again. But it is when we break into the earth, when we surrender to decay, and when we are buried in the dirt that new forms of life will spring forth…and, in our emergence, we will see ourselves through the perspicuity of our grateful tears as brothers and sisters we never knew.

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Falling might very well be flying – without the tyranny of coordinates.