Symbols and Archetypes ~ Simboli e Archetipi

When Marco opened his eyes, the familiar grey of his room had been swallowed. There was no ceiling, no walls, just an immense expanse of what appeared to be a salt desert, shimmering under a milky light that emanated from no visible sun. The silence was absolute, so dense it almost felt like a sound, a deep hum vibrating in his bones. Every grain of salt beneath his bare feet was a tiny crystal of time, and he stood there, at the center of a white eternity.

A distant echo, like a forgotten song, drew him in. It wasn't a physical direction, but an inner call making its way through the silence. He began to walk, and with each step, the landscape shifted. The salt transformed into dark sand, then into a carpet of fluorescent moss. Above him, the milky sky cracked, revealing glimpses of a deep cobalt blue, dotted with constellations that belonged to no known star map.

From the cracks in the ground, forms emerged. They were neither trees nor buildings, but organic and geometric structures combined, pulsating with their own light. One of them, imposing and spiral-shaped, seemed made of broken mirrors, each reflecting a different fragment of his face: a childhood smile, a look of fear, an expression of unvented anger. It was like looking at a soul's photo album, endlessly disassembled and reassembled. Marco approached, an irresistible attraction urging him to touch those surfaces, to piece together his own reflection.

A shadow stirred at the edge of his vision. It wasn't menacing, but imposing. A tall figure, cloaked in shifting shadows, stood silhouetted against the cobalt sky. Its face was indistinct, but its eyes, two pools of ancient light, gazed at him with a wisdom that transcended time. The figure did not speak, but a voice resonated in Marco's mind, not with words, but with a wave of primordial understanding: "Seek what has been hidden. Your truth is fragmented, but whole."

The landscape around him began to swirl, the moss islands detached from the ground, the mirrors multiplied, reflecting not only his face but also fleeting scenes, blurred memories, unexpressed desires. Marco felt his Self expand, contract, as if he were breathing with the universe itself. This was not just a place; it was his own psyche, a labyrinth of symbols waiting to be deciphered. The journey had just begun, and already his identity was revealing itself, one fragment at a time.

 Per l’ elaborazione di parti del contenuto è stato utilizzato l’ ausilio dell’AI Gemini.

Luca.