+Pratt+

PRATT



In my world where every line is blurred to the point of extinction, it’s hard to determine when enough is enough. Does it stop when you feel you simply can’t go on anymore, when the thought of waking up and seeing the light of the sun makes you want to go under and shut your eyes, when the thought of being blind is welcomed more than the possibility of seeing?

         I have been through that, and still here I stand. Maybe it is not a question of how much enough is; maybe it is in the answer saying how much one can take. And really, when you think about it, the insanity only stops when breath is taken from the soul. Only then will a person dictate when he had taken enough, when no one else can tell him to tough it out and bare it a little longer. Only then will he be master enough to stop it all.

         What is death, then? Death is the edge of a blade, a gunshot, the air taken away. But moreover, it is something else, at least for me.

         It’s release.