It’s 2029, I’m cold, my flesh is weak and my mind is fading. 84 is a curious age to have reached all things considered and recently I have been think of her for the first time in many years. Although to say thinking is perhaps the wrong way of saying it. She has been visiting me, well, visiting my mind, my thoughts. I think it’s her, there is something about the way her eyes pierce through me that makes me think it’s her. My mind is weak and my flesh is cold and I remember less and less….
She’s asking if I have found freedom. Have I?
Freedom. What is it? Am I free? That’s what we fought for and I certainly ‘think’ im free. to say what I want, to go where I want. To think what I want. But is this freedom real. If a slave dreams they are free are they really free? Perhaps in the dream they are free but when they wake they are still a slave. In this life I now have i am free. Free to express my thoughts to write them down on paper in any fashion I choose. I can pick whatever word I want and place it down with other other words to construct a sentence. The sentence could be anything, it could poetically conjure up an gabstract idea of Love or reality itself. I could write about going to the shop to buy some milk and that the shop keeper seemed not to like me. He looked at me in a certain way that made me want to hit him. JBut of course I wouldn’t hit him, that would be wrong. I would be punished. Am I free to hit the shop keeper if I wanted to. Is this freedom?
If Violence and distruction is the only true expression of total freedom then is it possible for everyone to be free. Is freedom only measured against the freedom you take from others.
The idea of violence can be created through words, smash, crack, burn.
‘I hit the shop keeper in the face, I smashed my fist against his nose and I head the crack of bones. He fell to floor with blood pouring from his wounds. I lifted my boot and stamped repeatedly’ within a few moments I had removed whatever freedom the shop keeper believed he had but I had achieved complete freedom. I was the master of my world and no one could stop me.
Freedom, an abstract concept difficult to quantify