The Impasse - A Diary of Scarcity and Soul
December 10th. Or perhaps it is the 11th. Time has lost its linear rhythm since the days merged into one long, gray anticipation. The light today falls obliquely through the window, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the silence—the only motion in this room, which is simultaneously a sanctuary and a prison. I write this not to complain, but to comprehend. To map this desert we find ourselves in. The words we hear every day – impasse, inflation, unemployment, poverty, low standard, scarcity, deprivation, loneliness – sound like dry, technical terms in the news, but here, in my inner world, they have flesh, they have the weight of a stone laid upon the chest at night. I sit opposite myself in this twilight of the spirit. What we call a "crisis" is, in fact, a deep, unsettling psychoanalytic pause imposed upon us by reality; the moment when the external supports of the ego – career, financial security, social status – crumble to reveal the fragile construction beneath...
