Rilke

So you ask me what you should do. You… ask… me!

You wanted an escape route from all of this, did you? A villa on the Adriatic, that kind of thing. Well, let me tell you so you get it: it isn’t going to happen. Life only deals those kind of hands to those who, heart of hearts, don’t really need them. That’s the way of it. So go find something you really can bite at: something you truly can fight for, or against. Make your own villa. Make your own warm waves to crash on your own far away shore. Go do it and do not hesitate. If it means running, then do it. If it means grinding yourself into the earth then do it, and love every desperate minute of it.

People your world with the beautiful ones – well, those who you consider beautiful at least. You can make them, break them. They are your enemies. They are your lovers. They are your tragic heroes and heroines. Remember, the truth is found in the balancing of the personal and the impersonal. If you are too evident they will hound you, if you are absent so is the truth. The angels can look after themselves.

So you ask me what you should do. I ask you: why?

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