crushed

Crushed. But not shattered. Fragments will be rebuilt, with molten gold, silver and precious gems. Reconstruction is a process, a painful yet exquisite journey, of constant refinement.

The quest for Selfhood.

Half a century of trundling along in amazing, bizarre, surreal and hyper-real roller-coaster rides. Lifelong toxic ‘mentoring’ by social Svengalis, being groomed for compliant subaltern existence, peppered with pockets of Graceful Guidance. The cosmos propels ever forward, hurtling through multi-textured, supersonic, psychedelic, smorgasbord of existential flotsam, jetsam in a churning, heaving sea yet so full of pulchritudinous mercies.

When the universe conveys a message to the Autistic Bunny, it is not in the didactic flora and fauna of wordedness, but in a multi-sensory elemental discourse. At times a Stravinsky-like chromatic, pandiatonic, polyrhythmic bombardment, other times inside the gentle undulations of a Bachian well-tempered clavier.

Sometimes, moving along in one direction will bring winds that propel along a completely different and unexpected current. Stillness is not necessarily stagnation. But being trapped inside the vortex of non-Selfness, serving Oppressive Other, is dying into nothing. When ‘stillness’ cannot offer the busy cornucopia of connectivity with the roaring silence, then it is rancid quagmire. No place for a Bunny and a Canine Angel. The latter deserves better, surely, even were Bunny so foolish as to be willing once again to live inside Putrefaction of Soul.

Gentle and genteel – despite crying, ranting, sorting out tangled strings of social confusion, non-speaking conversations with Canine Angel and the glorious material biological ecosystem during moments of respite from the madding yakkity-blib-blob of neurotypical sociality – the Odyssey will continue, as inexorable as life, until life’s death.

Autistic Bunny and Angel Lucy will forge ever onwards. Scheherazade’s Sea is a deep, wide and ever evolving sea, full of infinite wonderment.

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