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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-10-01 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I want everything. I want too much and there is so little time. Every choice I make feels like surgery, like carving the lamb chop of life and leaving a tasty bit for someone else to enjoy. Gosh... I frankly don't know what I want, sometimes wish life was a gigantic dim-sum feast, so I could say I managed to nibble through most of it without feeling I've missed out on anything. But I do. Every now and then, despite being very active and generally cheerful, I start reflecting how vain all this is. And then a sense of general frustration, anxiety and guilt flows through me and I wish I could just turn the tap off. Surely I say nothing new and my thoughts are just a fragment of human pathos, part of the cliches we're all guverned by. I was browsing some entertainment guides, the film section just a while ago, ticking and crossing the films with nope, naah, uh-uh, m-maybe, yes and must. Got a couple of maybes, a yes and a must. The rest are boring. I realised that to be truly entertained we need changes. Re-writing cliches, re-shaping lives, re-thinking perspectives. Only there's a risk in it, the risk of losing one's identity altogether, as how else do we define ourselves if not by our very mannerisms? But when, I wonder, do we take the time to tidy up upstairs? Do we ever take that time?
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