'The Uncertainty of the Poet,' Giorgio de Chirico
I slipped into a delicious languor…
Oh! You ought to be careful in the lockdown.
I mean I slumbered off in peace for a while.
Oh! Ok, the ‘delicious’ misled me.
The slipperiness and the unpredictability of language are
but a metaphor for the whimsicality of life.
A cloud of uncertainty enshrouds human communication. One sticks to and
abides by the self-assigned meaning of a word only to find that it does not
mean what he had thought all the time. Mortification… Pause…The new meaning is
the new normal. Life pulsates again. The old one is gone and dusted. After all,
it was not meant to be. In the clutter and contingency of life, meaning arises
and disappears and there is no sun around which it could revolve.
