With the act of birth he was gripped by stage fright. The fear to step forward, to be a person. To be sent on stage into a totally unknown play, not knowing which role to play, what text to say to the world out there.
His dream had been having become a spear, a catapulted lance, its spike being drilled into the ground, which his feet never stepped onto nor ever would. His only joyous vital movement would be the long vibration of the high shaft. A spear on foreign lands! A marking, an exclamation, a scratch, a jolt, a projection: Him.
Botho Strauss, 'Oniritti Cave Paintings', 2016
