My Imagination

My imagination is a lush forest, a clear blue sky, sparkling stars and sweet water. It is a land, a continent, a whole world or several worlds where I travel when I want to.

I can let myself fly through the lands and look down on emerald forests, and gleaming rivers running through the land, and endless blue seas. It is a world of beauty and grandeur, pristine and primeval in places, where thoughts grow freely and in abundance.

Imagination is a place of immense beauty but also of passion and terror and lust and desire. There are people there, of course, and people can be both sweet and cruel.

Between the green canopies of gigantic trees you may spot a woman walking, a proud and beautiful redhead, naked and with her hands tied in front of her. She is leashed to a horse where a man is riding. He is the hero and she the heroine and in this world she is his captive. She is his woman, bound and naked, and all is well.

On the coasts there are splendid cities with gleaming spires and shining pagodas where ancient and strange gods are worshipped by delightful women with glittering dark eyes. In those cities slavers and warriors sit in taverns and brag and revel, staring with desire at the servant girls hurrying between the tables, clad in almost nothing, all there for the pleasure of those brutes.

Imagination is not a place of eternal happiness. No, passion and pain fill the lives of brutes and slaves and not every woman is happy about being captured and not every man is a good man.

It is a brutal world where a woman may find herself stripped and in chains on the slaver's market before she knows it. And although she knows she belongs there, and longs to be there she has to endure the unfairness of it all.

It is a world of passion and pain as well as desire and lust and love and compassion. It is not a dead world. They are all alive. And despite the hardship and the cruelty they are all living and breathing and being alive. In their hearts they know that living is good and there is beauty in all aspects of life.

But this land is greater than that. There are modern cities too, where people live lives that look like ours, they work and commute and go to restaurants and watch telly. It is just an illusion, because those people know too, in their hearts, that this world is a good place to live, and they can live without fear. And when passion takes them, they can say yes to that which may seem cruel and unpleasant but really touches their souls.

The girl who follows the arrogant bastard to his place, having been touched and groped by him, may fear him when he takes out his whip and demands her to undress, but she never fears life. She may be terrified by the pain and the humiliation but in the end it makes her feel alive.

It is an honest world. When people love, they love with passion and truth and they trust the love they get and give. In this world you may want to hurt the one you love without ever ceasing to love. A lash with a whip may be a sign of affection and a rope around someone's wrists may indicate belonging.

But there are dark places in this world of imagination. Places that are not as easy to spot as the sun drenched vistas of endless forests and rivers. There are dark alleys and ruined castles and derelict buildings. And there are perfectly beautiful places but were cruelty lives. In those dark places strange things happen. Things that are hard to explain and understand.

To those places people go to be humiliated, shamed and hurt and they go without knowing why. They are drawn there, like moths to the fire, and they want to turn their heads but still they return.

In those dark places a whip can be wielded with the intent of hurting, really hurting and someone may take pleasure in someone else's fear or shame. A girl can be raped and abused and used and although she hates it she cannot avoid it, doesn't want to avoid it.

Imagination stretches into space, where the awe of eternity boggles your mind and the distance between the stars are so immense that the mind cannot grasp it.

But the endless vistas of space aren't empty. No, there travels ships of different shapes and sizes and empires are created and lost and passion makes people fight and love.

Scantily clad space empresses and princesses look upon the travellers with sparkling eyes where the cold eternity of space lies and men fight with swords and rayguns to do their biddings.

In the world of imagination there is also immense sweetness. The lovers lie in each others arms, looking out over the sea while the mild breeze ruffles their hair. There is true love and true passion, not hindered by jealousy and fear. In this world you can love with all your heart and all your body and know that you are alive.

Imagination is a place of contradiction, life and passion, cruelty and sweetness. It is all I want it to be but also much more. There lies my fears and my desires and things I don't want to see but are there all the same.

I cannot describe it, not fathom it. I can only glimpse it, get a fleeting vision of it. And what I can't do, is to describe it, not all of it. What I know is this: I would be nothing without it.