Fragile


Dear Eugene,

What does it take to break me down?  One of the most human questions we can ask ourselves.

Or more like How much.

Or more like How little.

It's the same question as What can I not live without?  Or What is the thing giving me freedom now that will become the biggest unfreedom when it is taken away?

 I said "taken away" not "gone" because it speaks about the reason for its going.  It is "taken away" because it was given at first.  It doesn't vanish by chance.  We don't lose anything because we acquire none.  Our fingers are not webbed.

It is getting colder now.  We turn up the heat.  We say the temperature we choose has to do with our "tolerance."  A world as seen through my guts and my guts are all there is to see about me by the world.

There was a time when life is about the wilderness out there and I grow to become more tolerant of it.  Even liking it somewhat.  Even finding solace and beauty in the most inhospitable corners.  Maybe finally loving it a bit too.  Epic tales.  Great literature.  Worthy stories.  Parchments aren't cheap.

Now we write about gazing navel.  My navel mostly.  Sometimes your navel--for the purpose of at last, of course, to come right back to my navel and gaze some more.

How fragile we are.

Yours, Alex

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