The same day equals the same night, everything is equal in the universe of possibilities. Then why is nothing easy to do? This is undoubted because, to stay on the tightrope of beauty, you have to become a balancing act, working hard on the art of “unsentment.”
As proof, I would like to mention those who drown in the ocean of faith without drooling, almost out of drunkenness; or those who darken up to calculate only the determinism of facts, laziness in the face of comforting certainties. It takes real courage to marvel, to accept the humiliation of our finiteness, our anxiety, daring and sometimes also faith to dance on burning coals, thistles sharper than swords, to face the dangers of silence. We know nothing, our learning is our song, our enjoyment, and our melody.
If I could say everything, but I’m nothing, so little. I’m especially surprised to see the night coming. I bend to it because I know how to live in other dimensions even if, to be honest, I have the old age to forget them in the morning.