“Who has added a layer of an image to the canvas of the dark? It is a dream.”
- “Vie Secrete” by Pascal Quignard
When night falls, we encounter a moment of adversity in a faceless absence. We are born to be enticed, tamed and ruled by light. Once we walk into the night, we cannot see anything in the dark until our eyes adapt to notice things in our line of vision. If we are deprived of the chance to experience the dark, our eyes may only be accustomed to an excruciatingly bright world to go blind at last. Pascal Quignard gives an example of Stendhal’s story in his book.
“Bare birch tree branches are thrown into pits in abandoned salt mines in Salzburg during winter. They are found covered with glinting crystals two to three months later. Glittering pieces of diamond are scattered all over a branch as thin as a forest bird’s leg as if they were alive twinkling.” What is an art of excellence? What is the night of those who are scarred and bled thrown into a dark hole like? Once the day dawns, bare branches end up being covered with jewelry.
Our opponents never recommend we spend a night but talk us into staying in the middle of a temptingly bright light. I seldom talk to anyone else around me when I have to find a way out of sufferings and agony because humans only give a yes to whatever steers me out of the right path. Probably, mothers are the only one who tries to keeps us cautious about the scariness of the night. To write a piece of poetry, authors put their hands on the wall of a deep pitch-dark cave to experience the dark. All living things sleep at night to escape from the dark. However, here is always a piece of a nocturnal image floating in our mind even with our eyes closjed. It is a dream.