By Ahmed Latif
There are times when the light gets so heavy that you feel like you can’t breathe. You can never feel suffocated by the darkness; it’s more kindred, possibly.
An escape is a human necessity. Probably landing in the upper half of your personal hierarchy of needs. But you don’t need a monster per se to legitimize an escape. You can still escape despite a lack of a monster. You can escape from those heated moments in which life slowly braises you as an entity.
An escape is a release of pent-up hopelessness, so we don’t feel suffocated even in the light. So we can breathe in the light. To breathe in the light you don’t escape to the light, you escape from the light. You find an obscure little corner of serene darkness. And it should be cold. It has to be cold. In the cold, time is frigid and passes slower. In the dark only what is important shines. And in the obscurity we are cured of all the parasites of our age.
That’s the thing about an aurora, it never happens in hot tropical places. It never happens at noon or in the brightness of day. It rarely visits major cities and tourist destinations. It appears in dark, obscure, and cold little corners. Just as we need an escape from the crushing weight of life and livelihood, so does the light. The aurora is the light escaping to gather its thoughts and returns from the placid abyss lit anew.