Vanity. Ares

door man and committed suicide by throwing
himself off from the banister! and as he hit the
floor his head hit three other dead bodies….do
you get the story?" "Well, somewhat," I said
accepting that in prison it seemed that everyone
had wisdom to impart; water and oil, in my eyes;
Plus, suicide seemed just as absurd as persistence
— why we humans go on in life is a question
though? as if stroking a dog that is gnawing at our
necks! "He excused himself didn't he?" I mused
aloud. "You do excuse yourself you see. Well, it's
a metaphor for life don't you think? Things are
what you want them to be," said Roth, sitting
back down. "As I see you, looking lost, but in
reality the only thing you lack in here are
women." I didn't know how to reply to this, as the
conversation was seemingly reaching a point of
banality, in my eyes. But, I remember that story
because it made me think at the time, mostly of
the ridiculousness of life or my life for that
matter. I had not signed up to be a prisoner, but
prison as a location was soon a concept I had to
accept was something that happened within a
person's mind, Roth's story did tell me that
much. But, mostly I felt such stories lived
amongst the infinite vortex of nothingness: your
balance is unbalanced and the seams of even your
unconscious thoughts so mundane, so distilled.
The world owes much to the entertainment of
vanities, perusals of curiosities and closer to me at
that time: monotonous stages and a violent
serenity.
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