Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Solenoid

by the senses in our mind, like you build a house mock-up under a glass bell. But the enormous world, the world as it is indeed, impossible to describe through millions of senses open like sea anemones in the continuous tide of the ocean, iseverywherearound us and crushes us, bone by bone, in its embrace. When I was about twelve years old my fear of the world became acute and precise. I understood then for the first time that not the jaws, the fangs, the claws, the hooks, the thorns of bestial monsters, not the phantasm that my frail body would be torn apart were the source of my continuous anxiety, but the emptiness, the nothing, the unseen. I was then avidly reading some

little brochures of fantastic and adventure literature. On Thursday mornings I used to wake up at dawn and run to the newspaper kiosk lest I miss an issue. The facsimiles were cheap and naively illustrated, but the stories they told filled me either with wonder, enchantment and enthusiasm or with horror and anxiety. Be they about temples and gold bars from the jungles of the southern continents, about cities undersea, about experiments of psychopath scientists, about extra-terrestrials impossible to understand, about intelligent viruses that conquered the world, about spirits invading your mind and taking the reins of your will, the stories were populating my hours

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