Dances with Kali
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- Nov 16, 2009
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The line between reality and fantasy is thin. Sometimes so thin that I find myself trapped into thinking I exist in one but live in another. Everyday my belief of reality is clouded even further. Whether it is the instant coffee I drink and the chicken flavoured bacon I eat with powdered egg whites for breakfast, or the fake smile the receptionist flashes to me each morning knowing full well that once I get into my office she is secretly cursing the first task I send her way. I have begun to equate fake with fantasy, which has turned the concept of fantasy upside down. I have discovered that fantasy has an ugly side. A side so ugly that fantasy actually is reality and reality is a fake fantasy we force ourselves to live in so that the reality of a fake fantasy will not kill us.
The sessions became routine. Blurring from one into the other. What was once a beautiful ballet had turned into a monotonous re-run. There was no fantasy, not even a fake reality. Until I visited the Dollhouse.
Svetlana welcomed me into her establishment and assured me that whatever happens inside, will be what I wanted to happen. Fake, fantasy, and reality
The sessions became routine. Blurring from one into the other. What was once a beautiful ballet had turned into a monotonous re-run. There was no fantasy, not even a fake reality. Until I visited the Dollhouse.
Svetlana welcomed me into her establishment and assured me that whatever happens inside, will be what I wanted to happen. Fake, fantasy, and reality