I will exile my thoughts if they think of you again, and I will rip my lips out if they
say your name once more. Now if you do exist, I will tell you my final word in life or in death, I tell you goodbye.
I love three things," I then say. "I love a dream of love I once had, I love you, and I love this patch of earth."
And which do you love best?"
The dream.
I suffered no pain, my hunger had taken the edge off; instead I felt pleasantly empty, untouched by everything around me and happy to be unseen by all. I put my legs up on the bench and leaned back, the best way to feel the true well-being of seclusion. There wasn't a cloud in my mind, nor did I feel any discomfort, and I hadn't a single unfulfilled desire or craving as far as my thought could reach. I lay with open eyes in a state of utter absence from myself and felt deliciously out of it.
Truth is neither ojectivity nor the balanced view; truth is a selfless subjectivity.
Do not forget, some give little, and it is much for them, others give all, and it costs them no effort; who then has given most?
But things worked out. Everything works out. Though sometimes they work out sideways.