03 June 2012

Cyclamen



to be honest, I had no idea of the mythological dimensions of cyclamen before something compelled me to google it some months ago. my reasons for the tattoo are related to a person I knew years ago. his friends called him ciclamino, because his family has been selling flowers on a square in sassari for decades.

yet, there's no denying he was a muse. I wrote my first ever poem the day I met him. of course I had scribbled a poem or two before that, but I never had experienced the sense of mediating the vastness of my internal lands before. it was like finding a voice I never knew was mine.

we were both lost and crazy enough to commit to each other fully from that day on. the nights were ours - I photographed, he did “business,” and just for the sake of it we went dumpster diving and fishing. after eight months of living together in helsinki we took two back-bags and my camera, and moved to sardegna where I began to write stories.

in addition to opening me up to words, he also introduced me to the aether. on a few occasions, he turned invisible for me, and once vice versa. on numerous occasions he seemed to be able to read my mind, and gave me gifts that meant things to me he couldn't possibly know. the most remarkable example was a bicycle he found for me from the streets: a rare, classic helkama exactly like the first adult size bicycle I ever had. when he brought it to me, he also gave me candies that had been my favorites when I was a kid. I haven't bought any candy since childhood, so his chances of knowing my favorite brand came down to wild guesses.

yet, the aether doesn't make life all magical and easy - quite the contrary. the deeper down the rabbit hole I went with him the more I suffered. my mind was split between bouts of aggression and catatonia, hallucinations and panic attacks.

I guess that after a sufficient amount of time the mind is able to distance itself from its past, thus remembering things before disassociated. earlier today a mention of an emerald dress reminded me of a story I wrote in sassari. as I tried to find it from my files, I found a conversation I typed down with the other voice of ciclamino. he was the easiest person ever to hypnotize. 

“ciclamino knows which one of us is more strong. yet he does not know who I am. I know I am stronger than he is.”
“do you think you are under somebody's control?”
“no, but sometimes I see people trying. if you had seen me when I was 15, you would have seen that my life is manipulated. I think somebody wants to control me.”
“do you think that comes outside of yourself?”
“inside. on some level I think they want to manipulate me.”
“how do you identify yourself?”
“myself? I don't know.”
“do you have a name?”
“no.”
“do you communicate with other people?”
“yes. I communicate with you.”
“one time before or many times before?”
“I don't remember.”
“when was the first time you communicated with me?”
bo.”
“within one week?”
“no.”
“one month?”
“no.”
“before the summer?”
“no.”
“when during the summer?”
“when you were in norway. I said you don't have to go, and that you have to come back home.”
“did we communicate using the phone?”
“yes.”
“did you call me?”
“no.”
“sent a text message?”
“no. a video call. in dreams. you were in your bed... in bed, at your country house, not in norway. but, I had not seen the thing above you, the tent. I had not seen that before. the mosquito net.”
“was I alone?”
“yes, it was night when I came in your room.”
“tell me everything you remember.”
“you had called me. I got the feeling you were very sad, so I came to visit you. you looked like you were crying, and when I came closer you looked at my direction and became afraid, and went into the corner. I tried to speak to you, but you didn't listen to me. I tried to say telepathically that you don't have to be afraid. then I don't remember what you and me talked about. but you couldn't see me. and you did not know you were talking to me.”
“how can you talk to me if I don't know you to be talking to me?”
“for I am inside your brain.”

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