I wake up every morning with this, like, enormous sadness. I can hardly get up. It stays with me until it … dissipates. Like morning fog.
What am I feeling, philosopher? What’s wrong with me? Do you feel it, too?
We made a mistake. Somewhere, there was a mistake. Do you feel that, philosopher? I’ve felt it for years.
That there’s something wrong with it all, with … everything. That’s what I feel sometimes. That it’s all wrong.
We must have done something very bad in a former life, to be born into … this.
We need a spiritual tradition. Words to say. Ancient words in Hebrew or Latin or Sanskrit, or whatever. Ritual words.
We’re too alone in the world. We don’t have any … shelter. We’re exposed on all sides. Do you know any holy words?
I know some Hölderlin. And Celan.
So quote some Hölderlin. And Celan.