In an age where, at least to me anyway, imagination is not valued, or at times even seems to be discouraged, I find I'm asking myself; "What is wrong with ambiguity?"
I like to be able to read a line in a poem or hear a line in a song and be able to carry it with me for an hour, a day a week or even a month for that matter until I can decide what the writer/singer means or even more satisfying, what it means to me.
The deliciousness of the ambiguity can feed my imagination for hours if I want it to. To be able to just sit with something and pull it apart, reassemble it in different ways until it "fits", that's one of the beautiful processes that my mind allows me in a world that is all too quick to want to catergorise, compartmentilise and move onto what's next. A world where everything, everything must be explicit.
Well, I for one want some mystery, some ambiguity in my appreciation of art, music, literature, even conversation. Sure, it can be frustrating, exasperating, unnerving, even just plain scary at times but for the most part it feeds me in a way that gives me, I dunno, not joy or exhultation but it's one of the things that makes me gratified/satisfied?, to still exsist.
Anyway...
