Chaos – I mean the chaotic world that we`re living in is such an interesting place to be. The one thing which everyone holds on to, the memory, the future, promise, love, hope and salvation of the soul, every little piece makes this world a wonderful place to live in. For these, I`m not capable of knowing whether they mean anything at all to other creatures beyond mankind. Perhaps, we could be less aggressive or less intimidating as we hold on to our common ground of co-existence. Let the wild animals roam around their territory for a longer while, let the animals in circus disappear from each and every supposedly amusing act and return to their natural calling, let the blades in slaughter houses be jammed for a longer while before each and every tamed beast turns into somekind of bloody raw meat serving as horror backdrop to the comfortably human-labeled trademark and pricetag displayed along shelves at our nextdoor cozy supermarkets. If, if, just let there be less conscious-kind-of mass murder, perhaps, only perhaps, mankind could suffer less from too much arrogance spiritually and be saved from too much worldly corruptions.
These being said inas much as the emergence of any concious mind could see and feel inside even without actual on-scene physical attachment. It is understandable to say that all butchers are just part of our life, part of mankind profession, the one with glory and unshakable honor and fame as if giving service to the thought of foods before a meal begins. Right then, putting everything in my concious-state-of-mind, that bloody scene pertains to all human capabilities correctly in all vocal and verbal senses. Indeed, every learned being is able if not liable, to make sense of what mighty things mankind could do given either a concious or non-concious state of mind. Whether it be the earlier or the later, mankind will always find ways to reason the unreasonable and hesitate no further up or down the road to self-corruptions in reality, not just on movie screens. This is real. The horror is real, even if one cannot see or hear it.
Let alone words that grasp in vain for a clear and simple description of what kind of a horror they`re trying to depict, there`ll be no ending to the story. A story of mankind, of course. A story of morbid interests handled by unstable minds. Told in every detail down right to the pivotal point of human brain where there virtually exists a scale weighing between reality and intense imagination. One tick of imbalance to the left or right, the 2 will clash, leading to an outburst of emotions. In full scale, a human drama that happens every now and then, and also in the future was portrayed unwittingly real plus stupefying perhaps out of human genius. Perry, Dick, the ones who killed the Clutters, in my own words. The author, Truman Capote, genius of our own kind of species. 3 beings settled at the same era of time, contemporary to one another, in a time when everything seemed so young, so innocent to present world, it happened.
Not in the least would I intend to tell what is written in the book, let the story speaks for itself in its most pristine stage as if once frozen in time the moment Mr. Truman did so.
Feelings in excess could gather fear and emotions, too much fear and emotions could raise ourselves above common reality, below which dimensions sink into darkness full of ghostly, chaotic reminiscence. So that if fallen below the common reality, there`ll be no turning back, but trapped and lost forever in the sunken, dark, chaotic reality. It is in this sense that I receive the message from such once in a lifetime reading. The road that leads to where we are standing right now is the same path we will ever choose no matter what, unless that path was never considered existed or accepted in one`s mind.