The Image

The image enters your life in an unobtrusive manner, buries itself
under the skin, and resurfaces at a moment of lightheartedness. But
then it turns and burrows so deep it can no longer be seen, or, if
seen, is unrecognizable. In a dream it reemerges: chimera-like, it is
comprised of the many images with which it has since come into
contact. Clinging to its edges, like seaweed, and to its surface like
barnacles, are the strings and cankers of fear and anxiety. Its face
is horrible. Its absorption is now complete, and irrevocable. You are
made up of such images, you encounter new ones at a tremendous rateŠ