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Sophie Podolski

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“Yes, there's probably a ton of madness in those ambitions, but what are we if not mad beings? What are humans without madness? As i understand, madness is nothing more than a surge/bolt of criativity without the wires of rationality intertwined. An idea is an surge of creativity tangled with rationality, but when such element is lost, all there is left is creativity on it's own, lost in threads of thoughts in the ship we call mind, with the rationality being the roles and the nails that keep it all together, and with this balance we sail.”

“He had seen dogs and ponies feverishly coupling with bored young girls, and overfed women with rats and mice crawling across their brown bare skin, and felt nothing; but at the sight of vertebrae pushing against the back of her neck, pushing between her perfectly symmetrical shoulder blades as she inclined her head forward, brow furrowed, his mouth went dry, and he felt the planet sliding beneath his feet.”

“First: breakdown, impossible to sleep, impossible to stay awake, impossible to endure life, or, more exactly, the course of life. The clocks are not in unison; the inner one runs crazily on at a devilish or demoniac or in any case inhuman pace, the outer one limps along at its usual speed. What else can happen but that the two worlds split apart, and they do split apart, or at least clash in a fearful manner. There are doubtless several reasons for the wild tempo of the inner process; the most obvious one is introspection, which will suffer no idea to sink tranquilly to rest but must pursue each one into consciousness, only itself to become an idea, in turn to be pursued by renewed introspection. Secondly: this pursuit, originating in the midst of men, carries one in a direction away from them. The solitude that for the most part has been forced on me, in part voluntarily sought by me –but what was this if not compulsion too? –is now losing all its ambiguity and approaches its dénouement. Where is it leading? The strongest likelihood is, that it may lead to madness; there is nothing more to say, the pursuit goes right through me and rends me asunder. Or I can –can I? –manage to keep my feet somewhat and be carried along in the wild pursuit. Where, then, shall I be brought? ‘Pursuit,’ indeed, is only a metaphor. I can also say, ‘assault on the last earthly frontier’, an assault, moreover, launched from below, from mankind, and since this too is a metaphor, I can replace it by the metaphor of an assault from above, aimed at me from above.”