Silloin kun palasin Tampereelta Joensuuhun, sattui junassa eteen asioita olotilassa, jota voisi sanoa itseaiheutetuksi juomalla aikaansaaduksi kuivumiseksi. Pieneksi itsemurhaksi.
Light and dark,
Ying and Yang, Angel and Demon: inseparable since tha dawn of time. From the canopy of heaven to the depths of the unconscious, they hide and (re)appear at the far reaches of the chromatic scale. The final battle, in black and white.
Black and white are onscreen. Black blurs, pales, goes gray. He's yelling
White:
(sniggering and offering his hand) Are you teeth chattering in the face of death?
Black:
Yes. I'm often scared. My blood freezes over when I dress Satan, Lucifer or Beelzebub. I shiver on the waters of the Styx. I am infernal, yet I can't brave looking Cerberus in the whites of the eyes. But, White, don't try to convince me that you are nothing but light, innocence and original purity.
White:
Phantoms, ghosts, spirits... the lividity of corpses continues to tarnish my pure image of first communions, fiancées and brides. I am the origin of the world, mother's milk, trancendence, but I am also old age, wisdom, the shroud. Life is born in white, gains colour and ends in white. In the East, dawn uncovers the empty canopy of the sky. In the West, the sun's rays are sucked up by the coldness of the moon. Between moon and sun, I am those two ghostly whites, suspended in nothing, like an absence.
...
Black:
These mortals are all alike: victims of their perception, they make us appear in all colours. Fade to black.
White:
Have you been feeling immortal recently?