I can grab some things by the hand — all it does is frustrate me. A speck in my eye, a spot that would not leave me alone. No immersion, no movement. It pokes me from both sides. No chance of going back, only forward from here.
Perhaps that thought made me find beauty in loss — pushed me to allow this to be, and to seek a different meaning, one that transcends the initial impulse...
Where is the boundary between acceptance and escape?

Walking across the emptiness, rebuilding the decorations. I knew no essence of these places, and all I had, all this time, was a combination of shapes — the labyrinth I entered myself, from which I knew no escape.
Now some of its walls are crumbling, and it frightens me...

But what is reality? Isn’t it supposed to be shaped by us? What difference does it make?
I had to accept the results of interactions.
Grief turns to curiosity, but anxiety lingers.
Reconstruction is something I can do, but why? Why would I? Why do I want to?

Exercise in letting go.
This should have been like the last time, and what I was anticipating was exactly that.
What turned out, though, was a different beast.
Memory fails me. Lost places — in my mind and in reality.

Since everything took very long with the distrubution I've decided to release my album on Bandcamp ahead of streaming release.
https://fatassbully.bandcamp.com/album/okapakaria
Go check it out! I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

I've released one track from the upcoming album!
Go check it out!
https://fatassbully.bandcamp.com/album/opakaparia

Harness.

Instant gratification at the cost of self-corruption.
Or is it self-discovery?

Resolution.
After some evenings, the absence came, but nothing stopped. Just changed. Same walks, same dances. But some of that power and movement started leaking out...

And then the dances — showing myself, feeling the power, merging with warmth, splitting layers. Choosing the right material — I’m my own shaman.
How wonderfully alone I felt, yet so open. No regrets, just surprise at how stable I feel about the openness.

Act III.
Not eating the candy with the wrapper. Getting upset thinking about the absence. Discovering that gritty, tacky feeling and enjoying it. Dissolving in it.
Not wanting to resolve — not physically, emotionally, or mentally.

Constant self-therapy and a stream of questions inside my head. The most prominent: "Why?" No answer, but the movie feels so good. Let it be.

Act II.
Objects started lining up in structures — it all makes sense, yet is so hard to grasp. But the fact of lining up still brings me joy.
Everything is hazy. I am in a movie. How interesting is it? What’s it about? I don’t care, just want to stay inside for as long as possible.

Now I am getting around the "city," discovering its "districts." Some are dark corners with abandoned structures: no pavement, no lights, no people, no hope. Others are glossy villas with cozy lights, pools outside, live hedges decked with garlands. Still no people. Or perhaps I just didn't notice them.

Act I.
Dances, but most importantly, the walks. Especially after certain music called to me, and I let it be. Everything after was predestined.

A few shamanic manifestations with bursts of intense power strokes. I felt like a king of water, even though I knew I was not. Underwater structures appeared as apparitions. Breath as music.
But the atmosphere isn’t that. It lies on the opposite side — night, which came early...

As to not lose the atmosphere.

Exposition.
This was an odd period, full of strange self-investigation.
During the day, I swam on a different planet, as if flying. Cold water, even colder wind, chest in pain, fantastical landscapes, depth, colors, myriads of fish...

I’m learning to act instead of just reacting, and it’s brought me some peace. I want to turn my inner weakness into a force and fully embrace who I am, but it seems like it'll be a long road. In the words of B'ee: 'The road is wide, the passage free. The trip goes on and on endlessly.'

Today felt like a good day to share something, so here are a few photos I took this morning. I want to reflect on things, but I’m not sure where to start. Gaining more control feels strange—there’s strength in it, but sometimes it’s overwhelming.

Now that I feel disconnected from these places, I’m uncertain of who I am, as if I’ve lost a part of my past. I feel the ground beneath me slipping away, and though I have yet to grow wings, maybe this is a sign—it’s time to move forward.