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“Regions submerged in interminable martyrdom, through the unending silence: Pablo Neruda.” These were the words of one of the greatest poets of 20th century. A poet whose writings were greatly influenced by the Spanish civil war.
There is a that feeling, you know, like you’re at the edge of the world, though it doesn’t exist, but you feel as if you are just one step away from dissolving into infinity. A fading nothingness. What would really happen if you do take one extra step, would all your worries be dissolved or would there be a greater chaos in the aftermath. I never understood the fascination with suicide, at least not in my young days, but it all seems so blurry now. All on the edge of the world. Every single good man is just one bad day away from becoming the evil he so badly despises.
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