“I rebel; therefore I exist.”
― Albert Camus
The herd live normal lives.
What's a normal life?
Isn't it to taste again a retrieved piece of last night's meal from between one's teeth?
Isn't it an old lover, shriveled and lame, trying to re-experience the ecstasy of his first teen love but lost long ago?
Isn't it to rekindle a calling when passion has grown cold?
A normal is an old movie.
A normal is stale saliva.
A normal is stable center on a spinning wheel.
A normal offers a shelter, but no home.
A normal binds two together, but no love.
A normal sustains life, even luxuries, but no joy.
A rebel lives beyond.
He is fluid nothing.
His home is anxiety.
Only Zeus is immovably still, unchanging silence.
Out of boredom, he creates time.
A rebel is a bastard infant of Chronos.
Written 21 March 2018 @ Puchong Malaysia