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The wheel

Modifié le : 2019/08/06

Not all days are equal before eter­ni­ty even if, like limp­ing waves on a riv­er, they live more or less the same exis­tence. Thoughts do not all have the same val­ue even if, in shaky rip­ples on an ocean, they die stub­born­ly on the horizon.

Fatigue, in both cas­es, is the same, pre­hen­sile wear that clings to the avail­able ener­gies. We must con­tin­ue to roll our humps, to insist, like these curls, on mak­ing the nec­es­sary effort, to hope, and to believe in its value.

It would be so much eas­i­er to dream of a relaxed sea. Every­thing calls us to it and leads us there. For­tu­nate­ly, the stub­born flame of life blows into me.

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