To miss one's own life like you miss a target. The arrow is just gone off course. It was off course before it was thrown. The dice were trunked. The parcour was slippery and made to get you down. Or was it? Should I have been the archer AND the arrow at the same time ? The road And the runner all at once? Was I both all along ?
Are we total and unique master of our destiny, question never answered.
The Island beckons. I cannot wait to go back.
There, all is dark and silent. Nothing moves. The nights are long and cold. There is no hope. And that is the best thing of all.
