I don’t mind blurry.
There’s a need in me to have sharp angles, solid truths, crisp colors and intentions all around me. I, sometimes, except that from people. But there is also a part of me that love to dwell in the blurry, in that zone in between feelings and emotions, in the shades of gray. Everything then take or loose definitions, nothing is as it seems. It is unsettling. It makes your heart skip a beat, the line of the cardiogram goes higher all of a sudden and lingers there in a dreamlike state.
Reality can be beautiful but reality is harsh, raw.
Blurry is soft, blurry can’t be contain or caught. It is always in movement, never stopping.
Sometimes I think “standard” shouldn’t be so perspicuous. What we mean by “standard” tends to be boring.