It's strange. To make this riddle worse, it never made any sense to me. After endless seeming nights of silence, in the hills, where my phone lost its network dissuading me to keep any contact with the terrible popular truth, I allowed darkness take my mind. I saw the fire burning, and then the coldness of the ash, while I listened to a nightingale. I saw bliss in the flower, bird of paradise, the blossoming of peach trees, and felt the trial of moral and immoral ending.
My head smashed with sinus and rum and wine sometimes, but found meaning in love to Sir Ludwig van Beethoven's Symphony 9. The fourth movement. Dissolving every careless thought into a machine and producing the stillness of every romance. What is it that's driven every soul to a point, to that very existential dichotomy and then left them to stray. The meaning, the loss of words, and then the death of reason. I know not know.
But I sit here with a room full of abundant arguments pulling every tangled point of view to straighten the very basic, wondering what the hell it all means. Ah dear readers, I know, how I really don't know.
Literature. African writing, the Romantics, Modern European Drama, Neoclassicists, 20th century thinkers, yes I've been studying as well. Travelling back and forth in time to think and criticise, sometimes unworthily. I sit to prepare for my third last year of English Honours programme, and that's greatly been busying my time.
I don't understand, I know as foolish as it sounds, that I'm a bit worried about me course. Yes I know it's English, English literature to be precise. Shameful that I make it sound as though its a paper of Accounts. But the same lines of nervousness now reiterates as it did once in school.
I fancied once that English Lit would be tested on decent merit in universities at least, and not on mugged up ideas. Last year, 12 people were caught in my class of 20 copying answers from a guide. It was shameful as well as intolerable to have this happening while I wrote my paper. But imagine my curiosity, what answers had they found.
So many things have happened in this recent past, I seem to have been in the middle of a crossfire of chaos. Madness swelling. Some of the best people have left.
And time? I'm around.