Eclipse

Imagine a space without windows and doors. There are only mirrors around and strange reflections in them. Something looking at you is barely perceptible. Meeting him is like hitting a black hole. 

A black hole has a powerful gravitational field that absorbs everything that happens to be nearby. There is an irreversible mutual attraction. Once in the abyss, objects cross the border of no return. Their further history is unpredictable. 

The abyss lurks in each of us. She speaks to us from the depths of the subconscious, where we are completely naked and defenseless. At the moment of its manifestation, we come into contact with what we never knew about ourselves or what we avoided, preferred not to notice — with the shadow side of our essence. What is on the other side? What if black holes (our anxieties, fears, phobias and other affects) are the fear of death? 

Primal fear, laid down by nature as the basis for deep existential worries about what we really are and why we come to this world. The abyss is intangible, but substantial. It reveals our temporality. It releases the pain and horror that we try to suppress and contain. Its discovery entails inevitable changes: we gain identity. The thorny process of cognition opens up to us the intangible experience of interacting with reality. So we find ourselves face to face with something that is bigger than us. Having reached the very bottom of the abyss, having seen her face, we are able to experience the experience of living a little death and the new cycle following it.