There's something about the mind that regards every new bout of pain as the hardest ever..Of course,once it passes,it falls back into the past as if it were just another of those innumerable battles we've lost in life but as long as it's in passing,it is the worst ever.Why is it so? Probably because of our denial that we are ill-prepared to handle pain even after so much of experience with it in our past? Or we're just comforting ourselves that it is in fact,the worst ever and that we cannot do anything to fight it and end up experiencing it stoically?
Probably.But,I am not here to judge.
I've been reading a lot.About to start my fourth book inside three days.All very good ones.In fact wonderful ones. Mitchell..Ishiguro..Banville..Dostoyevsky.. An extended weekend alone in my room,reading such beautiful writing.. ah,it couldn't get any better.
I am in pain.
And I'm reading it away one word at a time.
1 comment:
which one's of dostoyevsky?
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