Hyperbole is an art form. You have to cultivate it, coax it out of the dark and into the light, take
Hyperbole is an art form. You have to cultivate it, coax it out of the dark and into the light, take what’s there and then explode it, through it up onto the Platonic cave wall for everyone else to see. This is a dynamic that benefits from a little mystery, for slipping into myth and legend rather than cold reality. We don’t want to steralise the powerplay, turn it into something measured, considered, deliberate. It needs to be Homeric. It needs epic poetry written about it, something that others have to slog through to get any sort of meaning out of it. It needs ambiguity, blurry edges that could be this, or could be that. I want to inspire imaginations, cast aspersions, make people think. I want to insert wonder into their minds, and have them dwell in it for a little while. It’s theatre, then. It’s elevated onto the stage, and people think what they will. It doesn’t matter that we have what we have, that behind closed doors you may be my slut, you may be my own personal fucktoy, a gloriously snug hole for me to use, objectify, humiliate, reassure, cuddle, cherish. But I want them to question it. I don’t want fact to slip into their minds, because life is better for the fiction. Let them embellish, quietly, silently to themselves. Let them think, imagine, wonder. Let each little moment become another seed that they cultivate into a thriving forest, before another comes along and cuts down half of it for some new bread of sapling. Let them talk. And let us be the oblivious pair at the centre of it all, filled with the carefree nonchalance. Let’s pretend we don’t care. That what they think, what they say, doesn’t matter. Because as fun as it is to project onto the stage, we’re the ones who’ve escaped the cave. -- source link
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