I am.

December 11, 2008
I am paralysis. The epitome of the Commendatore’s statue. I embody a hermit crab with my feeling of regularly being trapped inside a shell; but allow my mind to travel the world to places far and wide like a butterfly. In Room 119 I hear the sound of the ESA version of the alphabet my means of communication. My left eyelid blinks in a sign of agreement or discern. I am the colors black, purple and orange depending on my mood. The Ravel’s Bolero rhythm plays repeatedly 18 times in my head providing tranquility in place of anxiety. I roam around Cinecittà a forever-deserted terrace in which I linger whole days at a time. Sometimes I feel like a jellyfish exiled, paralyzed, mute, half deaf, derived of all pleasures and horrible to behold. I travel in my BMW through the memories of my past with the ones I love. I am unable to utter a word or move a muscle but my mind goes back to the memories of my old life, the life that I will never reclaim.

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