What are we doing here? Tonight we all hung out and spent close to 2000 CFA. That's about $4 - What are we doing? We are thrown into a world unknown to all of us, a world where, if you wanted to, be someone completely new. You can be anyone. Yet, we're with these people from all over the country, people never met before - and now they're your life for the next two years. They are people I would probably never hang out with at home. But here...it works.
A stranger at first and all of a sudden, he's your new confidant, she's your new sound board, these people are now your family, friends, lovers, enemies - this new language now flows freely from your mind to your tongue and past, between your teeth and out beyond into the vast world. What is it that we're saying? What is this new connection? Who is this person I'm trying to find? Who am I trying to be?
My memory flexes and fades. My dreams change and expand. Plans are ever-revolving. The person I am, is it who I want to be? And this person I'm evolving into, it is true to myself?
These questions come and they go - this time we're given to think & reflect are far and few in between the hustle of souls crashing into each other. Yet - reflection is vital to our survival. What would the world be without it? What would the people be like if we just walked around with no care but now or never? These faceless beings mindlessly wandering through a maze of white elephants and overgrown roots. The uncaring sun would beat it's powerful rays down onto a world that was just as unthoughtful.
I would not be here if I were unable to reflect - to think about what I've done. What I will do. How many connections with people would be and are. What I have become. How many relationships have changed.
I am a jar full of hopes, desires, mistakes, successes, anxieties, aspirations... I am a jar full of things people will search for but will not be able to see - yes, you may think I'm transparent - bt my core is hidden among my spirit.
I am an open book with hidden text.
I am a piano that only few can truly hear.
I am an undeveloped photograph soon to be overexposed.
I am the tune in your music.
I am the tickle in your throat.
I am unforgettable.
I am unforgiven.
I am a tattoo among the Roman Catholic.
I am the smoke that burns your eyes.
I am him and he is me.
"I'm feeling like I'm lost staring at the crowd. & I'm feeling like I'm not being loud enough to get you to see. You're smiling for pictures you're never gonna keep. & I'm on the only train - but you're on another one. It's clear to you & it's clear to me. It sounds a little condescending what I say it like that... I'm flying over me, but I'm landing on my feet."