If we didn’t have death, what then? If it wasn’t all going to end, would it make sense? The fact that we have to seize the day, or whatever … That used to be my motto when I was young. Seize the day. That, and To live at all should be miracle enough. Banal, wasn’t I?
I always thought life was a gift, philosopher …
That’s so slavish. To the world. To this order of things. The way everything goes round and round.
Like the seasons, you mean. I like the seasons.
Like the seasons and the year and the week and the day and right now. All turning round the same nothingness. The same question, why? Which resounds without answer. Which just asks itself, over and over again, at the heart of everything.
Why are you so hateful, philosopher? That’s my question.
Work in Progress 