There are many things that develop the surrealist thinking and a very important one is the written word. I think words carry a lot of power, both in written and spoken form. Verbal mazes are also convertible and perspective-dependent: they can confuse the reader or the listener, but the same time they may delight another and lead him or her to a transcendent vision of the whole, and a work that is enigmatic on one reading. It may yield precious knowledge when its windings are probed a second or third time.
As an exercise, I tried to create surreal images with words. Here's the result:
"The moonlit trees were like twisted fingers, grasping at the sky, as the stars danced like fireflies in the dark.
The wind was a howling wolf, prowling through the night, while the leaves rustled like whispers in the breeze.
The sky was a canvas, painted with the colors of dreams, and the clouds were like strange, shifting sculptures, molding and morphing with the wind.
The sun was a blazing eye, peering down at the world with a fiery gaze, while the earth was a beating heart, pulsing with life and energy.
The stars were like diamonds, scattered across the velvet sky, and the moon was a silver coin, gleaming with an otherworldly light.
The mountains were like ancient giants, sleeping on the earth, and the rivers were like shimmering ribbons, flowing through the land.
The trees were like sentinels, standing guard over the forest, and the flowers were like delicate jewels, scattered throughout the fields.
The air was like a symphony, filled with the sweetest melodies, and the ground was like a living tapestry, woven with a thousand different threads.
The world was a kaleidoscope of wonder, with surreal objects and mystical elements interacting in bizarre and fascinating ways.
And in this strange and wondrous place, anything was possible."
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Furthermore, in my tiny space, I wanted to disconnect my mind and create a surreal poem from magazine cut-outs. My mind is used to put order in the chaos, but ordered it to go with the flow and leave the overthinking on the side. I call this, a playful state of mind.
See the poem bellow(it makes sense and it doesn't):
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