walking under acacia trees with T


– Heidegger said, to choose is to choose not to be free. Because every choice we make precludes other possibilities.

– I wish I could have it all.

– Then life wouldn’t be precious, would it?


– We’re always doing so many things, always running around, trying to prove ourselves worthy. It’s often not about needfulness, but ego and self-edification. But still it makes me so happy to achieve the things I work for.

– I didn’t have to work for what most makes me happy: my mother, my girlfriend, my friends—the love they give so generously.

– I also feel that way, but—the things I work for take time, take so much of me, that I hardly have anything left for people. I know it’s not okay, because people aren’t things or titles. They have hearts and legs. They can get tired. They can leave.


– I haven’t seen my mother in a while. I don’t even remember when we last had a proper conversation.

– My friend, his mother got dementia. He couldn’t see her for a couple of weeks because of work, and when he finally visited her, she didn’t know him anymore.


– I keep waiting for him because I believe that if I am patient, things will fall into place. But maybe I’m just kidding myself.

– Maybe you should stop hoping. Expectation will cut you, and cut you two apart. Let things unfold with indifference.

– And if things unfold in a way I don’t wish?

– Let them be. Let him go.

– But I don’t think I’ll find another like him.

– You know, that’s bullshit.


– I don’t think I can ever let go of attachment.

– We are all works in progress.

– But what would I hold on to? I’d drown.

– You could flow with the current.

– I’d sink.

– Then you might know peace.

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