Chapter 69 Empty Horror - Artist One Divided In Two

——Interpretation of "Talking with a Prayer" The prayer and "I" are the two devils in the artist's heart, both restraining each other.Tortured, but also encouraged, supported each other, and formed an alliance to deal with the destroying, all-encompassing sense of nothingness. As a bystander, I witnessed the prayers of the prayers inside the church.That kind of prayer was unprecedented and seemed extremely pious, but it was obviously a performance for spectators, so it lost the meaning of religious piety to a certain extent.I felt awkward and dissatisfied with this, and wanted to go over to stop the prayer and question him, but I was overwhelmed by the charm of his prayer, so I squatted in a dark corner for a long time without moving.In fact, my heart is also vacillating, and I am not sure whether I should stop him.Finally I worked up the courage to go up and talk to the prayers.When I ask a question to a prayer, I try to put distance between me and him, to point out the unfamiliar side between me and him, and to hope that the question and answer between each other will have an objective quality.The prayer did the opposite, and immediately drew me as his accomplice (he had noticed my existence long ago, and always believed that I had an obligation to communicate with him), and put his inner pain, contradictions, and bad luck into his mind. It's all poured out on me, asking me to justify his existence, seeing me as his only hope and consolation.From this I was able to penetrate into his heart.

All suffering comes from an incurable sense of nothingness.When he walked, he could not help testing the ground with every step; although he was in the church, his spiritual sustenance was not there, and his every move did not correspond to the sound of the bell.He was like a shadow, unable to tap his cane on the pavement, unable to touch the clothes rustling past, but gliding along houses and disappearing in shop windows.The most ordinary things are like abysses to him.And all around him, houses kept collapsing, and people fell, died, and were carried inside for no reason in the streets.He crossed the square; the huge square made him forget everything at once, the south-west wind blowing, the towers of the town hall swaying, the window panes rattling, the lamps bending like bamboo, the gentlemen and ladies floating in mid-air on the sidewalks, only They only talked a few words when the wind stopped and bowed to each other.But all had joy in their eyes, and only the prayers were the only ones who were afraid.It turned out that he was praying desperately out of fear, and his behavior, which was not very coordinated with the church, was a bit funny.So once this strange prayer started, it took on a certain element of play, and later this kind of prayer became an indispensable inner need for him.There was no doubt that this was some kind of blasphemy against religion, and he was disturbed by it.He wants to tell me, in order to determine the rationality of his way of life.He cites examples from his childhood to illustrate the torment of the sense of nothingness: houses, balconies, grass, unreal conversations, emotions so remote and unfamiliar.That experience became a hidden danger in his later life, poisoning his sense of reality, always distanced him from reality, and forced him to avoid life.I understood all this perfectly, and my understanding gave him courage.I told him that this kind of experience is well-founded, it is a very common human experience, and it may happen to everyone.He took great relief from my affirmation.From this he must have realized that since his game-like prayers can attract the attention of others, and from this attention satisfy his own needs (that is, the awareness of its own existence), there is a rationality in his approach.Although this still can't alleviate his guilt from religious feelings and his loathing of himself.

The relationship between the praying man and me was one of hesitation and great conflict.Several times in the church, I made up my mind to step up to get the prayers to explain my exaggerated performances, but I always missed the opportunity because of indecision.The attitude of the praying man was more ambiguous. He seemed to be avoiding me, but at the same time he was very eager for me to talk to him.After a long period of indecision, I finally caught him in desperation; and he made as if to escape, as if he wished it to happen.He said he was worried that I was going to torture him (was this torture what he wanted?).He knew full well that I was an insider.Driven by my curiosity, I really started to torture him with questions.Facing my persecution (isn’t this kind of persecution what he wants?), he wept and expressed the deep pain in his heart.

The Prayer, like me, is neither religious nor ordinary, and his existence cannot be named or classified.He said he prayed for the pleasure of the reactions of the bystanders, and that his own shadow would now and then be cast on the altar, and finally he said that prayer was a need of his.I interpreted his need as fever, seasickness, leprosy.I analyzed that it was because he was in such a vacant position, unable to say or give a final name to things, and his heart was extremely painful, that he often needed to go to church to pray that kind of strange prayer.Nor was I sure whether I wanted to disagree or approve of his unusual way of praying; only one thing was clear, and that was my curiosity, which he took as hope, consolation, and justification.In fact, I can't do anything about his fever-like words and expectant eyes.First, I can't ask him to be devout (it's too late), and second, I can't give him real evidence; all I can do is tell him that my disease is the same as his, and that he suffers the same pain as me. Experienced, no less than him.Such is the fate of our kind.So, keep praying, I'll be around all the time, watching him as he pleases, that's my only pleasure.

I hope that the person who prays will tell his true feelings, and the person who prays hopes to get evidence from me; we are spying on each other secretly, hoping to attract each other; It's like in the eyes of the other party. The aspen tree I mentioned in my analysis is also a symbol of the central problem.Words always create a painful sense of unreality in the prayer.All that a praying man can do is name things incessantly, without end.The urge to refresh the naming is the result of an inner fever. Now it is not difficult to imagine what the prayer is praying for.With my encouragement, the prayer unfolds the sick soul step by step.The process is at once soothing and tormenting, a mixture of fear and longing, a hearty masochism.And I also satisfied my curiosity from this unscrupulous analysis and gained a short period of peace.The development of the relationship between the two can be seen as a process in which the artist's soul is divided into two.