Fri Nov 16, 2012 7:56 pm
What does a mind look like? How would it look where memories stored, connections are made and how does an individual visualize the processing, categorizing, and cataloguing of memories? It would be unique to the individual, something familiar and natural. A detailed map? A beautiful tune? A book.
Child-Genny may well have stayed there, within Rhaena’s kind embrace. There her lungs filled, she inhaled slow and deep, the air itself seemingly easier to breathe and more nourishing. There it was safe and happy, protected and encouraged. But the truth was the room grew dimmer and dense, the air heavy with a sort of humidity. And all of Genny was there not just a frightened child, but the student, the friend, the woman who was determined to overcome the fear.
I find that there are memories or thoughts that must be from Catch or Zilliah. Events I do not recall and cannot quantify, I dream of things that cannot be.
Indeed, the tumultuous landscape of her mind was manic and inconsistent. Two waves of equal force had crashed against one another, only, perhaps one was stronger than the other. Far older, stronger, and with such dissonance to her own mind; the impact leaving it in a fragmented state.
The book lay open and the small figure over it, thumbing through naked pages until at last she found her spot and spread the parchment with care. The ink here would only begin to swell and spread, appearing on the page as if it was being written just then. It would be difficult to make out exactly, the unfinished work perhaps a map and long list of notes. Regardless, the young child held out her hand, eager and proud to show.
For sometime I was quite lost, but I have begun to sort the one from the other and found paths I…
It had been happening for some time already, but quite suddenly the Gennys, the book, the light, the very air around them vanished. The sensation may have been akin to that of standing in soft grass on a soaked lawn until at last the floor gave; and around Rhaena a rush of images, feelings, sounds, tastes and scents of memories and thoughts. But likely, only glimpses. Within another second she had been expelled and might find herself outside the bubble, the membrane firm and while not harming, certainly not giving way.
Physical Genny quite suddenly appearing more aware; looked pale, nauseous, and whispered, “I-I.. I’m sorry.”