I felt an immediate pull into the story and was torn between reading it as a horror story of a deranged murderer and/or the metaphoric one of a lover who lost the woman he dreamed of and saw parts of her reappearing, trying to put the pieces together, to explain it to himself. But to no avail.
Well written.
I was only once at Helgoland and have little recollection of it, sometime in the 80’s.
Maybe the quantum theory left an impression in your mind, it is difficult to understand.
In one way, I read this as a man alone on an archipelago, who has had a psychotic break. He's chopped his lover into pieces and thrown the body parts into the sea but the parts keep washing back onto the beach. She knows, and he is trying to understand what has happened.
In another way, it seems like the man is remembering a dead lover part by part. Something has been left unanswered.
I love both of these readings. I was inspired by Werner Heisenberg & his retreat to Helgoland here, where he formulated the genesis of Quantum Theory. I wondered, as he came to the island, what he left behind.
Ah, Werner Heisenberg, the founder of quantum mechanics and the uncertainty principle. At the age of 23, he secluded himself on an island in the North Sea to assemble his theory. He saw patterns. (You sent me down another glorious rabbit hole. I had to Google this.)
As such a young man, who, what did he leave behind? What kind of energy did he leave on that island when he returned to civilization?
I love the imagery of the sky fraying into the sea and all the questions I have after reading this. It triggered a cathartic sense of grief, which Im grateful for because I needed a release. I often see my little brother in patterns in nature and in crowds, his striking blonde whispy strands of hair waving at me, and a finger calling me forward, egging me on to chase him. When my eyes follow, I'm disappointed when I see a stranger in his place, but then I'm comforted with the memory of having loved him.
When I read this a second time, I wondered if it was guilt he was dealing with? Were the patterns in sea and sand his conscience? What were the questions he sought with the first line?
Your deep, beautiful writing has hit me profoundly. You are such a gifted writer, thinker, observer, artist. Thank you.
I felt an immediate pull into the story and was torn between reading it as a horror story of a deranged murderer and/or the metaphoric one of a lover who lost the woman he dreamed of and saw parts of her reappearing, trying to put the pieces together, to explain it to himself. But to no avail.
Well written.
I was only once at Helgoland and have little recollection of it, sometime in the 80’s.
Maybe the quantum theory left an impression in your mind, it is difficult to understand.
I'm so happy you read those meanings, Victoria! I have never visited Helgoland - it's somewhere I feel drawn to, however...
In one way, I read this as a man alone on an archipelago, who has had a psychotic break. He's chopped his lover into pieces and thrown the body parts into the sea but the parts keep washing back onto the beach. She knows, and he is trying to understand what has happened.
In another way, it seems like the man is remembering a dead lover part by part. Something has been left unanswered.
AM I THIS DENSE? Missing the metaphor?
I love both of these readings. I was inspired by Werner Heisenberg & his retreat to Helgoland here, where he formulated the genesis of Quantum Theory. I wondered, as he came to the island, what he left behind.
Ah, Werner Heisenberg, the founder of quantum mechanics and the uncertainty principle. At the age of 23, he secluded himself on an island in the North Sea to assemble his theory. He saw patterns. (You sent me down another glorious rabbit hole. I had to Google this.)
As such a young man, who, what did he leave behind? What kind of energy did he leave on that island when he returned to civilization?
I love the imagery of the sky fraying into the sea and all the questions I have after reading this. It triggered a cathartic sense of grief, which Im grateful for because I needed a release. I often see my little brother in patterns in nature and in crowds, his striking blonde whispy strands of hair waving at me, and a finger calling me forward, egging me on to chase him. When my eyes follow, I'm disappointed when I see a stranger in his place, but then I'm comforted with the memory of having loved him.
When I read this a second time, I wondered if it was guilt he was dealing with? Were the patterns in sea and sand his conscience? What were the questions he sought with the first line?
Your deep, beautiful writing has hit me profoundly. You are such a gifted writer, thinker, observer, artist. Thank you.
This is a beautiful reading. Thank you 🙏