The restrictions are baffling, absolutely baffling, these restrictions the mind creates. I have no idea.
It’s more than a curtain; it’s a labyrinth of curtain after curtain after curtain. But, sometimes, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a moment of grace befalls me and I realize that there are curtains, and for the tiniest sliver of a moment I’m able to step back, look down and follow the thread.
But then - POOF! - I’m lost again, lost again in the curtains. Distracted by their colors and motifs, I’m not even seeing the curtains for what they are, their tantalizing threads forever leading me into the labyrinth within the labyrinth. Losing myself in their elaborate woven patterns, I’m halted, transfixed by the maze within the maze, forgetting I was searching for a centre, a way out, a thread, for the false thread keeps me mesmerized and the echo of my soul beckoning me to look down (please just look down!) becomes less and less pronounced with every passing moment until, finally, I’ve even forgotten I’m lost, forgotten I’m lost.
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