These questions torment me endlessly! They bore into my sleep and rob me. I fear there are no answers, yet I fear the answers more. Can we survive them? But how can I go on? Who cursed me with these questions? Why do I feel accused? I did not take orders; I was given none. I did not wear the mustache! I did not raise the arm. Still, these photos accuse me! Do they not know? I was not there. They cast their awful questions. They do not cease. I no longer have to look; the photos have seeped into my heart. I feel my heart is no longer mine. The photos have taken possession. The photos relentlessly throw at me their terrible questions.
How much longer can I bear these endless questions? When will they leave me; how can I go no?
It is a terrible thing to have a question in your heart! Where come these questions? They are caustic and never wait for answers. They out run me; I am left with their mocking laughter ringing in my ears. When I try to rest they chase me, they isolate me. Is it only I who am tormented by such questions? Must I find an answer to be relinquished from their punishment? From where came these questions?
My words don’t speak to everyone. Are there many who hear the question as I do? One must linger on the question to hear it as I do. Can the question be it’s answer? Can one hear an answer in its question? Does every question call for looking? Questions upset the balance of truth. How long can one linger in a question and remain standing? I look at the photos, and the questions I hear destroy my balance, they destroy my truth. How can I go on?
Have I been scammed by these photos, such truth destroying pictures? Have they spoken to me or do I speak to myself? Is it me that points a finger? These photos leave me standing alone in vertigo. All that’s left me is this gesture of guilt. How can I answer such an accusation? Am I the only one who feels this devastation? Am I the only one who stands alone? I linger and wonder how long can I linger. Not knowing how, I feel I must go on. I fear not going on.
As my head turns I close my eyes. The spinning slows but does not stop. In time as I stand, my vision returns, my eyes remain closed. At first I’m amazed by this sightless vision. The spinning stops; I find myself in a well lit room. Have I been here before? I have a strange feeling towards this room. I am alone yet I feel pressed from all sides. I can hardly breathe. I’ve never felt so close to anything. This vacant space that I see through my closed eyelids feels full, too full.
This blind seeing scares me. Am I afraid of what I might see? This vision’s physical impossibility doesn’t enter my thoughts. I am focused on what I don’t see but might see. I sense it all around. It is a suffocating warmth of others. Suddenly I am terrified of this room. I want to run, but I am held firm. My mind screams to run. My heart fills with a realization it is too late. I feel a panic exploding all around like a sonic boom.
Without a thought my eyelids open. For a second I lose all orientation. I reach out and grasp. It is the edge of a table. Though I stand still, my mind spins. My eyes regain their focus. What is this I see? The space is smaller than I had perceived. Immediately, I was struck by its emptiness. It was an emptiness that felt destructive, devoid of life. An acidic emptiness into which I could dissolve and disappear. How could I fight it?
The grey white walls closed on me. I felt like a prisoner with a death sentence. What law had convicted me? What court had condemned me? When had I ever pleaded guilty? What pernicious scheme had brought me here? Who can tell me my crime? Who will defend me? Tell me the reason so I can understand. I am desperate to understand! Has the world lost all understanding? No! The world has reason and understanding.
My eyelids lift, and I am in my room surrounded by the things of my Life. These things that had been close, feel distant. There is a numbness that separated me from this place. Yet, the things that surround me exude a sense of reason. My mind is too weak to follow its logic. The numbed distance frightens me. I lie down on my bed. The mattress receives my weight. It’s touch elicits a chill from the emptiness I had just experienced. Or had it been years ago?
We can’t comprehend the killing these photos represent, but they were, no, they are. Do I now stand in a different flow of time? Something fundamental has changed. This place where I stand somehow doesn’t connect with my memories. Can I cross back to that other land? Can we reconcile with these photos or is the task too great for the human heart? Are we damned to forever hate?
Can our hearts understand an argument? Who can argue the case? Is there an argument? My thoughts lapse into questions without answers. Who could answer? I despair of an answer, no, I fear an answer. I fear the photos reveal a world that remains hidden. I fear it is a glimpse the photos give. I fear what lies beyond this glimpse. I struggle to believe otherwise. What is it that I believe? Do I believe? What is belief? Too many questions roam my mind. They aimlessly wander about not knowing where they go. Do they seek the truth as I do? To which question do I assign my lot?