Absolute despair in the heart of the night. Struggling, wrapped in the glow of the stars and surrounded by the absolute darkness of the night, in a silence so complete it deafens me and leaves me aghast.
Caught between a world of dreams and a world of reality in which I cannot find a place, I try to understand my identity, I try to understand what my heart desires, and I try to invent a world where I can live without trauma and without deception.
Searching for truth in lies and trying to conceal my feelings behind dead trees of complacency. I wander, disoriented, through the labyrinth of my dreams, which sometimes seem nightmares and at other times delightful visions.
My vanity makes me believe I can attain all that I desire, yet in truth, what I receive is always the opposite of what my heart longs to devour within itself. In vain I invoke the names of the deities of the night, struggling, weeping, and sobbing.
My voice fades into nothingness, into silence, into the torpor of my restless sleep. It was as if I could almost touch, almost grasp the emptiness with my hands, yet never gather the gems of my yearning.
Surrounded by the fleetingness of beauty and the decay of my yearning, I let myself go, I let myself go, I surrender completely to my desires, both carnal and spiritual. It is as if a mysticism had engulfed me, rendering my body immaterial.
Dazzled and dazed by the piercing brightness of the stars, I find myself in an immaterial realm, mystical and dripping with aesthetic lust and paroxysm of beauty.
I lie in anguish, in the decay of my very own shadow. I am not ashamed to express my wonder, for I regard it as a pure form of admiration and magnificence toward something my heart cannot even grasp.
Absolute despair in the heart of the night—it was but the fruit of my illusions and hallucinations. Silent, I stood like a marble statue, exposed to the harsh elements of a nocturnal storm.
Elisabetta
