#bon courage

Mon moi raisonnable et rationnel à mon moi dans le déni 

Mon moi dans le déni

omg i’m smiling so wide right now, thank u!!! 💙 i’ve been struggling all day with writing an outline for a soviet history research paper and my brain literally hurts, but ur message makes me feel so warm and encouraged💓 😄🐱

Why are the woods so alluring? A forest appears to a young girl one morning as she combs the dreams out of   her hair. The trees rustle and whisper, shimmer and hiss. The forest opens and closes, a door loose on its hinges, banging in a strong wind. Everything in the dim kitchen: the basin, the jug, the skillet, the churn, snickers scornfully. In this way a maiden is driven toward the dangers of a forest, but the forest is our subject, not this young girl.

She’s glad to lie down with trees towering all around. A certain euphoria sets in. She feels molecular, bedeviled, senses someone gently pulling her hair, tingles with kisses she won’t receive for years. Three felled trees, a sort of chorus, narrate her thoughts, or rather channel theirs through her, or rather subject her to their peculiar verbal restlessness ...    our deepening need for non-being intones the largest and most decayed tree, mid-sentence. I’m not one of you squeaks the shattered sapling,

blackened by lightning. Their words become metallic spangles shivering the air. Will I forget the way home? the third blurts. Why do I feel like I’m hiding in a giant’s nostril? the oldest prone pine wants to know. Are we being   freed from matter? the sapling asks. Insects are well-intentioned, offers the third tree, by way of consolation. Will it grow impossible to think a thought through to its end? gasps the sapling, adding in a panicky voice, I’m becoming spongy! The girl feels her hands attach to some distant body. She rises to leave, relieved these trees are not talking about her.

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Bon Courage

Amy Gerstler  (B.1956)

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