It's A Combination; Quite Difficult To Make Work: I Certainly Prefer Those Writers, That Are Able To

And if... Only in another dream. That would be a nightmare. Other you's from other dreams makes my reality. Some kinda balance, I guess... 🤔

“You are a dream; I hope I never meet you.”

— Sylvia Plath

People will stab you, and then get offended, saying you have no right to bleed.

(via 3amsouls)

So true...

That is... The "I" that I write... The version of "me" that is more me than me. Yep; it can get complicated...

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

— Emily Brontë

AND you probably write a lot better too...

I know I do. Free thoughts, free words, free mind... 😁

The best thing to happen to my writing was the realization that I could write whatever the fuck I wanted and no one could stop me and honestly when you stop caring what other people think you will be set free.

Always remember how much you have survived. Your world has fallen apart before. Time and time again and the rest of the world has still kept going despite the fact that you are broken. And after thinking you will never recover, never get up off the floor again, you have, dusted yourself off and carried on. If you have survived your world shattering, over and over again, and you are still here, a bit damaged, a bit broken but still here – you should be proud of yourself. Because that is no small thing.

Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)

So true... And still here!

And that now is now! As it is every time...

Fordelen ved Fiktiv Symbiose.

Fordelen ved Fiktiv Symbiose.

Jeg kniber øjnene hårdt i. Ellers lukker de sig bare langsomt. Lidt i takt med nikkende hovede. Hvis jeg var indianer, ville mit navn være ‘Nikkende Hovede’. Hov? Hvor kom dén indianer fra? Rysten med hele hovedet, kraftigt, så kinder og ører flaprer og min cykel slår med halen for at holde balancen, gør ingen forskel. Nå? Nu er der en indianer og en cykel der måske er en hund. Det må være nok…

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I know; way too many photos of sunsets... But here we go again: After almost a month with sunsets like this, and / or getting the wonder of two sunsets in one day, just by climbing a street or two in Lisbon, this guy returns to his 'native' country Denmark. Besides the expected difference in weather, scaled-up trouble in his neighbourhood, immediately being involved in readings and other litterary stuff, he couldn't understand it. WHY was it so hard to feel at home? Why all that restlessness? Why so... "Heavy" just getting through a normal day? And he even brought back (again-again; admitted!) the outline for that kinda novel he had wanted to write for years. But then he made some simple counting... He'd been away for almost a month. And "home" for just a week. No wonder he has trouble "re-adjusting" to life in Dk. It will take about the same time as he's been away. What IS a bit worrying: NO time needed to 'adjust' upon arrival at Portugal; instant feeling of being 100% 'there'; (actually felt like 'here'!). So why that needed "re-adjustment" time in his homeland? Just confusion... #castelodevide #alentejo #sunset #homeiswheretheheartis #heartache #priceoflife #horizon #perspective #laurieandthestoryof (Which seems a bit too tied to NOT being in Dk; has to be dragged across Europe just to be half remembered, despite notes and more...) #isitreallytruethathomeiswheretheheartisandthatiatsomepointleftmyheartthousandsofkmsawayfrommyhomelandthatwouldreallymakelifedifficult (Usual One-off hashtag...) #udenfilter #mantelmomento #danielmantel #primeiroproximopasso (He might have some answers...) (her: Castelo de Vide)

Actually / Originally:. https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/2017/07/01/den-sidste-foer-den-foerste/ (In danish, sorry) ALTERNATIVE VERSION: "Rules of Engagement": In any sport, game, combat or war there's rules. Which, more or less, nobody cares about. More specific; as on this picture, the national favorite in many countries, and with big-time profit-making outsourced variants as reality-shows and e-sport. It's a combination of soccer without ball and Custer's Last man standing-VR-game, in this case between Team Partizan Fiction and Team Torpedo For Fucking Real Not Just A Name, with the following result: 758-2. Officially authorized by some whistleblower, then quickly removed to Guantanamo by a cartoon-platoon of US Navy chopper-born SEAL's. Exchanging some weapons and tons of drugs, why missing any opportunity? It's all part of the game. But Team Fiction, represented by me as their illusive captain, has given in a protest to the asian syndicate that runs these kinds of tournaments, and also feeds people and money into any conflict. With tweets from Trump as decisive, in case of democracy. That's always a good laugh. Comradely backslapping and -stabbing, arm-punching and -twisting, all in a jolly good aftermatch-mood, filling the locked changing cages with roaring like-laughter revenge-attacks and floating bodies under the showers, that just for fun are built as replicas of complete waterboarding-setups, even with the disguising hoods and groin-gnawing unleashed dogs. The protest, concerning a so-called goal among the genuine goals for Torpedo Reality; more exactly their number 357 and 359, was given to a random picked citizen in a random country in a random world: That shows the fairness of this sport. Suicide-bombers are welcomed players, as any mercenary or just killers for a cause. We, Team Fiction, are still waiting for the random outcome of our protest: There's a lot of honor in the difference between losing 758-2 or 757-2! Really! Oh my, I do say, old chap! THAT is sportsmanship! Honor for Fiction! #https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/ #mantelmomento #danielmantel #udenfilter #primeiroproximopasso #laurieandthestoryof (her: Aarhus, Denmark)

It's a lie. That all your life flashes by. In your last minutes or seconds. You're just a bit surprised, and quite empty-headed. You actually have time to speculate. What should your last thoughts be about? You're almost paralyzed; your body rapidly shutting down. With some effort you spend your last few moves to get a picture of the sun. Beautifully letting rays through the treetops. Your last action is to post the picture on Instagram. Pressing the buttons drains your body, so now you only have your thoughts. And that beautiful image of the sun a late aftersoon. With or without your eyes closed. It's a nice view. And a nice place to die. You're quite satisfied with your luck. But what to think about... Ofcourse some family, friends, and partners through life. Then what? You don't know if you're surprised, or expected it. But what follows you and kinda keeps lingering, is those fictive figures. The ones you have played with the better part of your life. At this stage, they're more real than anything from your real life. It's no surprise, that what fills your fading brain, becomes pure fiction. Your last goodbyes goes to 'I', 'him', 'Laurie', 'Senhor Passo', and all the more or less important other figurines through the story. In the end, they're more alive than ever. And I can stop thinking; they don't really need my brain. That's a relief. And I smile towards the sun. Or they do. I shake hands and leave the party. #mantelmomento #danielmantel #udenfilter #laurieandthestoryof #primeiroproximopasso #fiction #prose #dying #reality #famouslastwords #sun #thatoneoffhashtagialwaysuseisinthiscaselefttomyfictivepersons (The usual one-off hashtag... But not from me) #andthendarkness #happy #smile (her: somewhere nice)