Fourth World

Perhaps, my post to today should be called Musings ON the moribund.

Franz Kafka wrote of his Father:

"Hence the world was for me divided into three parts: into one in which I, the slave, lived under the laws that had been invented only for me and which I could, I did not know why, never completely comply with; then into a second world, which was infinitely remote from mine, in which you lived, concerned with your government, with the issuing of orders and with annoyance about their not being obeyed; and finally into a third world where everybody else lived happily and free from orders and from having to obey." (Dearest father, 148)

I dreamed of my own Father last night and cried. Like Kafka I had a strained relationship with mine. Like Karl in America, whose Father sent him off across the ocean after he was seduced by a scullery maid, I took off away from mine and never managed to really come back before he died. The third world that Kafka references has never seemed like my own third world. To me that world is one where others willingly obey and I long so to live in a fourth world resembling the third world of Kafka. I do not understand the will to obey and live with orders that seems so prevalent in the rest of the outward world.