août 10

Spring came around and the world was transformed, metamorphosed into a wonderland of effulgent green. This is what I recall and when I look back at the photos, I feel a tug at my heart. Without compunction I can say that I miss both the good and the bad; such has been my tendency. They are not parallel nor extricable but irreversibly intertwined.

I have gone through life, goaded by a recklessness that can be summed up as tragic. I never prophesied I would meet another reckless wonderer (I don’t know if you’d describe yourself as such). My recklessness does not necessarily spring forth from naïveté but from a desire to be naïf.

Life has a funny way of surprising us, of capturing us in the midst of some new scheme to will or have a sense of will, only to say: Alack, think again!

A plethora of historians have warned us of the vicissitudes of man, urging moderation. Likewise many men have ignored this sound advice. After all, we are under the false illusion that we are unique and therefore beyond such disasters.

Having said this, I am not really sure of what I am doing. I may take another wrong step and tumble, fall flat upon my face, but I am OK with this. If I fall, so be it. I want to be brave again. And I want to be with the person I love, even it means moving again.


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