this world is ours, because there is an finite capacity to withhold an almost infinite expanse of wants, desires and determination. but what happens if there is nothing else which you want, other than love? what represents you in that case, the things you do, the people you love, the words you say, the words you don’t say?
these days life swings on a pendulum of immense ennui and occasional sparks of passion, and i tell myself that it’s all part and parcel of growing up. i have to be patient, i have to be humble, it may all be nugatory (as a lady who painted a Vietnamese tree taught me), but i have to persevere, because that in all likelihood, is my single-most defining characteristic.
yesterday, two days ago, pep guardiola taught me about passion, and i envy him for having the mental clarity to set obstacles aside and to move assiduously on. but then again we all need our minor epiphanies to constantly remind ourselves of who we are.
