Sunday, September 5, 2010

The answer

Heart of Satan, by Stuck in Customs (CC)
Sometimes the leaden cloud of doubts reappears in the sky of the mind. And it starts to pour down a heavy rain of questions. Questions that you have already answered in the past, so many times, not only with words or thoughts but with frustration, suffering and mild states of depression as well.
For a moment, though, you're at a loss, and you can't remember what that answer was. Stability, jobs, fixed salaries, professions, insurances, pensions schemes, health coverage. Why give all this up? What for? You could answer with words but it would only be the performance of a parrot, a meaningless rigmarole. You can't formulate the answer, you need to feel it.
Then you wander through the city, in those alleys and corners where restlessness meets the night, you have a beer too many, you watch the unlikely unfolding in front of you. You wake up too early or too late and you don't have to care. You read a book, and it might as well just be a paragraph, a dialog, a sentence, a thought...and all of a sudden it comes back to you. Now you know exactly what the answer is.

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