She did not think about it until she got back from school on the next day. Getting close to her house, she suddenly remembered the little brown man. She got to thinking about what he had said.
We have lots of books at home. Maybe I can find a red book somewhere.
So she went straight to the big bookcase encased in one of the living-room's walls and scanned its contents. There, she found three books that had red covers. The first one was a dictionary, the second one a crime novel. The last one was impossible to classify in just one look, so she sat down with it.
The title page read:
"Probably a philosophy book," Jennifer said to herself, a little disappointed. Nonetheless, she turned the pages and she read.
Even the richness of the Mind has been rendered reprehensible...
Thus, in vain,
we speak our mind
and while exposed
our thoughts are hacked at.
Forward and out:
thus goes my friendship.
I gain it,
then lose it,
and why is that?
She thought about it a little, then skipped a few pages.
It is not the Work that I flee; it is the 'Choosing of the Mask' ceremony; it is the Role-Adopting ritual. I must remain, and retain, my Self.
It is good that I was born very rich, as it would have been good had I been born very poor, for in one and the other the Choice of Career is not one to be made.
The Rich live off their Inheritance, and are expected to retain and maintain that Wealth; the Poor struggle for whatever they can find. Those in between, who have the Luxury of Choice, are cursed with endless possibilities. How to choose? How to reduce oneself to a single occupation? Whatever choice is made, is Betraying, and Forsaking.
She closed the thick volume, and put it back on the shelf.
"I'm interested by the ideas, but I don't like the words," she thought.
Asking herself why the little brown man had told her to seek that book, and if a little brown man had asked her anything at all, she absent-mindedly went in the bathroom and took a long hot shower.
We have lots of books at home. Maybe I can find a red book somewhere.
So she went straight to the big bookcase encased in one of the living-room's walls and scanned its contents. There, she found three books that had red covers. The first one was a dictionary, the second one a crime novel. The last one was impossible to classify in just one look, so she sat down with it.
The title page read:
The Glory of Human Containment
(A Work of Obnoxious Prose and Irregular Verse)
by Gordon Filligreen
(A Work of Obnoxious Prose and Irregular Verse)
by Gordon Filligreen
"Probably a philosophy book," Jennifer said to herself, a little disappointed. Nonetheless, she turned the pages and she read.
Even the richness of the Mind has been rendered reprehensible...
Thus, in vain,
we speak our mind
and while exposed
our thoughts are hacked at.
Forward and out:
thus goes my friendship.
I gain it,
then lose it,
and why is that?
She thought about it a little, then skipped a few pages.
It is not the Work that I flee; it is the 'Choosing of the Mask' ceremony; it is the Role-Adopting ritual. I must remain, and retain, my Self.
It is good that I was born very rich, as it would have been good had I been born very poor, for in one and the other the Choice of Career is not one to be made.
The Rich live off their Inheritance, and are expected to retain and maintain that Wealth; the Poor struggle for whatever they can find. Those in between, who have the Luxury of Choice, are cursed with endless possibilities. How to choose? How to reduce oneself to a single occupation? Whatever choice is made, is Betraying, and Forsaking.
She closed the thick volume, and put it back on the shelf.
"I'm interested by the ideas, but I don't like the words," she thought.
Asking herself why the little brown man had told her to seek that book, and if a little brown man had asked her anything at all, she absent-mindedly went in the bathroom and took a long hot shower.
No comments:
Post a Comment