The Scream

I think I really need a retreat—seriously—for now and for the 4 years left. I find my self groping through my way alone, challenge and mistrust haunting me like a gaily arrayed poppy garden in full bloom. I have been chainsawed by Eliot's Fisher King and Tiresias. Filomela's shriek mangled my heart... I do not think I am a good Levinas reader (sorry Prof.Shankman). I always slip towards the opposite side of the prism, which makes the poor "Morenu" even harder to comprehend. Every time I struggled with the "face-to-face encounter," I thought of the flower. All her delicacy and sad look saved me from a sense of defeat—or say, a sense of loss. But yolanda is not sad. I know. She is just philosophical about her situation, as with Samson nursing his strength at Gaza, waiting for a stage to fight back. Patience—Everone says to me—and bide your time. So that's it. Do what comes naturally. I will not betray the beautiful sentiments which yolanda shared with me.  Never.

I think I really need a retreat—or a scream!