Been going out for coffee lately, feeling like a mermaid stepping on land for the first time.
When I opened the novel I have not touched for 2 days, the pages stared back with hostility.
The exciting stories of T from her Uganda exploits, of icky sensations on the brink of, shall I pronounce it - love, more than compensate.
Yes, Lester Burnham (played by the Kevin Spacey in Sam Mendes' "American Beauty"), you are never more correct in exhorting that we can't be mad because there's too much beauty in the world.
Maybe, I'm just sleepy from all the coffee but yeah, there is no guarantee that by staying furious, the problem takes flight on its own. "Development work" disenchants as it inspires but if you abandon it, what's the tradeoff? In the midst of it, love stumbles, comes knocking.
There are times when we are half-convinced we don't belong. Our choices may not be commonplace but let us not allow ourselves to be exiled. Those who could not live with our choices, they should be the ones to take a hike.
Baudelaire in "The Painter of Modern Life" sheds light:"to see the world, to be at the center of the world yet to remain hidden from the world - such are a few of the slightest pleasures of those independent, passionate, impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define."
T, just follow the dictates of your heart. Fuck Batailee, love is not the most distant possibility. It's within your reach, just an inch away. Move closer. Jump and hold still.
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