Warm. Dark. 

I was privileged enough to read a fictional book about sci-fi impossibilities, which was written in a way to suggest the possibilities of such occurrences. In the book, the premise was that humanity had advanced to the point where a company had engineered a tapeworm to house all the antibodies a human body will possibly ever need.

And with a single transplant, down the base of the spine of the human, they will be safe from every disease. Except, as per any horror / thriller / Science fiction, the tapeworms move from the spine to the brain, feasting it on until they take control of the body. Cue in science based zombies.

The main character of said book, “Sal”, who so happens to be a tapeworm has a coping mechanism called her “…warm, dark…”, symbolising her earliest memories of sliding up the spine of the comatose body she was placed it. The rhythmic beat of the heart, steadying her fears and alleviating her worries.

The ‘warm, dark’ serves as some sort of haven, shielding me from the worries of the world, as my eyes shut and my ears dim out the sound to only listen to my heartbeat.

[dum-dum]

Sheltered from the madness that infests the world, I cradle myself to normality as I try to re-adjust to the darkness that blankets the world. I failed once before, but maybe, just maybe this time round I can come out above the sin-infested sewer-hole I happen to live in.

It’s not here [gestures to environment] but here [points to mind] and here [points to heart]

The ‘warm, dark’ is solace. Solace is safe. Safe is dangerous…[Sometimes]

We are getting to the end of one thing and the beginning of something new.

Maybe Solace will represent a safe haven consistently this time…

Maybe.

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