I am beginning to suspect that it was never the pain.
Nor the stillness.
Not even the Master.
That is what makes everything harder to understand.
For years I believed I understood the people who participated in these dynamics.
I observed them from the outside.
They seemed like characters from someone else’s film.
People built from materials different from my own.
I was not one of them.
I was simply a normal person looking at something strange.
Something distant.
Something impossible.
And yet here I am now, five days later, trying to understand why a red line near the upper frame of a doorway continues to appear in my mind.
Not the pain.
Not the intensity.
Not the central moment.
The line.
The third line.
The one I noticed afterward.
The one slightly separated from the others.
The one that seemed completely unimportant.
The one that was too high.
I still do not understand how it could have been that high.
The question is absurd.
It has no relevance.
It changes nothing.
And yet it keeps returning.
Again and again.
As though my mind has decided that detail contains an answer I have not yet found.
I am beginning to remember the session differently.
Not as a sequence of events.
But as a collection of objects.
Dust gathered near the floor.
A long brown hair.
The spearhead-shaped mark on the ceiling.
The red lines.
The texture of a wall.
The silence.
Above all, the silence.
Because now I understand something I did not understand then.
I remained still throughout the entire session.
Not because I was forced to.
Not because I could not move.
I remained still because I was observing.
And the more I observed, the harder it became to stop observing.
That was when something strange happened.
The first time I felt the instrument strike, I understood something I still cannot fully explain.
The instrument was not aesthetic.
It was communicative.
That changed something.
Because until then I had understood it as an object.
Afterward it stopped being an object.
It became a language.
Every sound seemed to contain information.
Every pause seemed to contain information.
Every movement seemed to contain information.
And I did not understand the language.
But I knew it existed.
Perhaps that is why the obsession continues growing.
Because I do not feel as though I am remembering an experience.
I feel as though I am trying to decipher a message.
An incomplete message.
A message that never fully arrived.
That is why I keep returning to the details.
To the spearhead on the ceiling.
To the third red line.
To the dust.
To the silence.
To the exact moment when I realized I was no longer paying attention to the pain.
I was paying attention to something behind the pain.
Something larger.
Something I still cannot name.
And the less able I am to name it, the more space it occupies.
That is the part that unsettles me.
I do not like being submissive.
The sentence remains true.
It continues to appear.
It continues to produce the same feeling of confusion.
Because none of this fits the person I believed myself to be.
And yet every attempt to move away somehow brings me closer.
Every explanation creates new questions.
Every answer opens another door.
Sometimes I wonder who I was before all of this began occupying so much space.
The question appears.
Remains for a few seconds.
Then disappears.
Not because I find an answer.
But because something stronger immediately takes its place.
The need to understand.
The need to look again.
The need to find one more layer.
As if the obsession has discovered a way to feed itself from its own incomprehensibility.
As if every doubt automatically transforms into fuel.
And then I understand something even more unsettling.
Perhaps I am no longer trying to understand the Master.
Perhaps I am trying to understand who I am becoming while observing him.
And perhaps that question is deeper than all the others.
Because the third red line is still there.
The spearhead is still there.
The silence is still there.
And something inside me continues returning to that room even when my body is no longer inside it.
I have to move the neck, I am not moving it, the neck has locked, I should…
