He closed the door of his house but in the act of closing could not forget the encounter he had had a few hours ago with his friend, the wolf, who actually had turned into a wolf and told him, in a language that was strange to him but which, to his surprise, he could immediately understand, that the world was made of foam, a tiny and transparent layer of experiences that evaporates the moment you try to catch it, foam that creates an illusion of substance and the idea that something lies between you and the world
– “be careful,” the wolf had warned, “make sure the foam doesn’t create the suggestion of two where there is really only one, and do not waste time putting energy into it for it will make you childish, like a child blowing soap bubbles who believes they are worlds outside him when they are actually created by the same substance that give form to the child itself” –
yet even as he was listening to the wolf’s howling speech, his brain struggling to digest the meaning of it all, the wolf was forging ahead
– “and when you waste time, be aware that this waste is actually the product of time, and that time itself can never be wasted, since time is just a creation of foam, as the bubble is a creation of the child” –
but these words didn’t reach him because he was too busy thinking over the other stuff the wolf had said, his mind drifting away and coming up with this strange but persistent idea that he trusted the wolf more than he had ever trusted his friend when he was just called Wolf but had not yet turned into one as this wolf probably had no need to make him feel small, saw no advantage to lying to him and would not use the manipulative strategies he had noticed his friend sometimes using (and to be honest, used himself as well) when he was still a human being, and because he trusted the wolf more than the man his friend once was the howling sounds touched him in unexpected ways opening doors of darkness that he saw and felt transform his body, making his legs weak, slowing his thinking, turning his blood a lighter colour, directing his breath to something unfamiliar, far away (like the ant he once read about who left his friends and loved ones to go to ‘far away’ and never came back) and while noticing all this happening heard how a voice had entered his body or actually how he had become attuned to a weathered voice that seemed to come from
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He closed the door of his house but in the act of closing could not forget the encounter he had had a few hours ago with his friend, the wolf, who actually had turned into a wolf and told him, in a language that was strange to him but which, to his surprise, he could immediately understand, that the world was made of foam, a tiny and transparent layer of experiences that evaporates the moment you try to catch it, foam that creates an illusion of substance and the idea that something lies between you and the world
– “be careful,” the wolf had warned, “make sure the foam doesn’t create the suggestion of two where there is really only one, and do not waste time putting energy into it for it will make you childish, like a child blowing soap bubbles who believes they are worlds outside him when they are actually created by the same substance that give form to the child itself” –
yet even as he was listening to the wolf’s howling speech, his brain struggling to digest the meaning of it all, the wolf was forging ahead
– “and when you waste time, be aware that this waste is actually the product of time, and that time itself can never be wasted, since time is just a creation of foam, as the bubble is a creation of the child” –
but these words didn’t reach him because he was too busy thinking over the other stuff the wolf had said, his mind drifting away and coming up with this strange but persistent idea that he trusted the wolf more than he had ever trusted his friend when he was just called Wolf but had not yet turned into one as this wolf probably had no need to make him feel small, saw no advantage to lying to him and would not use the manipulative strategies he had noticed his friend sometimes using (and to be honest, used himself as well) when he was still a human being, and because he trusted the wolf more than the man his friend once was the howling sounds touched him in unexpected ways opening doors of darkness that he saw and felt transform his body, making his legs weak, slowing his thinking, turning his blood a lighter colour, directing his breath to something unfamiliar, far away (like the ant he once read about who left his friends and loved ones to go to ‘far away’ and never came back) and while noticing all this happening heard how a voice had entered his body or actually how he had become attuned to a weathered voice that seemed to come from
deep inside and told him - no warned him - that curiosity will kill us, that courage will kill us, that love will kill us, and while listening he thought of a person behind the voice and saw a fat man wearing dark glasses with dark hair and dark shoes and told this man “no this is not true, love, curiosity and courage are our supporters” and then thought (and said) “no you are right it will kill us, it will kill what needs to be killed in order to discover the wolf inside us” and started howling as if he had always been a wolf and left to give voice inside and started howling out loud reaching out to his friend the wolf and chatting howling about the freedom they were experiencing and how freedom was no longer a place to escape to but a state of being, and they were howling about the pleasure of giving up this fight against the ‘that’ that makes us fearful; the ‘that’ that creates enemies blood stench and wounds; the ‘that’ that is continually changing so it is hard to fight and so creates even more fear the next ‘that’ and the next ‘that’ and the next and the one after that because the wolves could go on forever because ‘that’ goes on forever “as long as you do not see that ‘that’ is just foam” the first wolf said, and the other wolf just turned and said “yes, that’s right and now it’s time to go home” to which his friend the first wolf said “you never left home”.
And the wolves turned to the home they had never left.
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