There is something I have never been able to fully explain.
It is not pain.
It is not fear.
It is not even pleasure.
It is the way certain experiences remain long after they have ended.
Sometimes I find myself thinking about it when I should be thinking about something entirely different.
And it always returns in the same way.
Like a current that never completely fades.
As if some part of me remains connected to something that is no longer happening.
If I am honest, I do not like that feeling.
I never have.
I would like to classify it.
Understand it.
Reduce it to a simple explanation.
But I cannot.
Because the more closely I examine it, the more complicated it becomes.
Perhaps that is why I keep returning to Sade.
Not the scandalous figure.
Not the symbol.
The obsessive observer.
Someone who seemed incapable of abandoning a question once it found a place inside him.
And I have a similar question.
Why do certain experiences seem to grow stronger after they are over?
Why do they continue expanding when they are no longer present?
There are moments when I feel something still moving inside me.
Not physically.
In a way that is much harder to describe.
As though my attention has become trapped somewhere.
As though some part of my mind is still trying to understand something that happened long ago.
And the harder I try to solve it, the harder it becomes to walk away.
Sometimes it even irritates me.
Because it does not seem logical.
It does not seem reasonable.
And yet it remains.
Persistent.
Silent.
Waiting.
And then another contradiction appears.
Because alongside the discomfort comes something else.
Something I never expected to find.
A strange kind of pleasure.
Not a simple pleasure.
Not a clean pleasure.
More like the feeling of moving closer to an answer.
As though I am walking around a locked door.
As though I know there is something behind it.
And I cannot stop trying to discover what it is.
Perhaps that is why I keep returning.
Not because I know what I am looking for.
Because I still do not.
Because the question remains open.
And because some questions seem to grow stronger the longer they remain unanswered.
Perhaps that is the real current.
Not the one moving through the body.
The one moving through thought.
And it never completely leaves.
The neck I am not moving it the neck has locked I should…
