THE PARADOX BETWEEN MEMORY AND TIME_

The mists of time.

I haven’t written in a long time, I don’t know if I remember how to do it, but my memories have mutated into an artificial reality so there is a possibility that this text will find its end.

It’s midnight and thoughts (concerns) begin to arise about time and life, about how fragile and malleable memory turns out to be. I begin to question everything I remember, everything I dream and have -continue- to wish for, what is real?

I come from a place of ruin, where destruction dominates our minds.

I tirelessly search for the crack capable of freeing me from the terrible and suffocating routine of a life that I have created based on false memories, some call it Imagination, who knows. The days go by, one after another. It’s hard to keep track when the spectrum increases, and when I can’t remember them either, my memory seems like a lie. There are no images in the thoughts, only a deep echo in a strange darkness.

But beyond memory, the concept of “time” seems meaningless. The irreversible past becomes very distant, a shadow always present but without form. Without a doubt, reality has been transformed into artificiality to support the complexity of life.

Time passes very quickly, and I am afraid of being forgotten. The sound of the clock hits deep inside me. Stir my soul and my dreams [the hidden beast].

An imaginary world through time. [From 2021 “Mute” artwork by Veronica Gonzalez]

If this continues, the reason will be suffocated by ghosts that perhaps never existed. The vague sensation of reality consumes me, my mind navigates stormy memories that I doubt really happened [fictional memories] and by a strange human logic I feed my soul with those lies, as an invaluable resource. Well, after all, I think I have lost my identity, my reflection and my sanity.

Surely there is nothing real in life and every word turns out to be a lie of the soul.

Without realizing it, I have walked through long corridors of my mind, searching for answers. Nothing is as it should be. With the passage of time everything has taken a different path, and in the inhospitable panorama the heavy body sinks under the clutches of consciousness.

Maybe it’s time to let myself be carried away by those false memories, and look for new dreams to forget.