Who cares? Does the audience thank the jester for entertaining them? Do they think the jester is funny? Is the jester himself funny or is he just a funny concept? Do they love this certain man's theatrics, or are they entertained just from the concept of a dancing man?
One must consider the jester happy. One must see the theatrics as a reflection of his emotional state, rather as a performance. Yet people don't wish to understand the jester as a person. They're satisfied by the existence of a constant. The knowledge that someone exists at all times just for their entertainment.
However, is the jester happy? Does he perhaps also find solace in the fact that he's perceived as happy? Is his mask a restraint or a blank slate? Does it give him the way out, the freedom that he seeks? A chance to live -even for a little while- outside of his own mind? When do roles stop being shackles and start being chances?
One must consider the jester as a man with a hat. Once it's off, the hat is still a hat and the jester is just a man. The same man won't be as funny to the same people he entertained a few hours ago. Probably they wouldn't even recognize him. Because now he's just a man, he's not THEIR jester.
When does identity become a shackle and when does its loss equal freedom? That of course, depends on the meaning of freedom for each one of us. One would find peace in the anonymity, seeing the endless possibilities of new identities. That of course would bring him back to the identity as a prerequisite for existence. Others perhaps feared the lack of purpose in a life like that, mistaking destiny for fate.
One can ponder till days end about the meaning of any of these. And what a privilege would that be, knowing that they'd never be the jester. And until then, the jester is lying alone, his hat on the floor besides him. And untill then we can lie alone, pretending we leave nothing besides us.
areudirty
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
