I guess I wish something in the middle: that the words remain, probably because my brain cannot conceive inexistence, and the closest I’ve been to talking with dead people has been in books, so why not try to stretch consciousness beyond death by duplicating it in other human beings through my written words. But I also wish that the words would vanish as soon as I write them, so that I could write freely and without the burdening thought that what I’m writing could be read in the future1.
- We believe that this fragment tried to convey one of Ni Das philosophical obsessions, that the feeling of freedom and the loss of fear of death are related in a deep existencial sense, so much as to be treated as the same concept in old philosophical traditions. The piece, although poor, has a deep historical significance, as it is the first fragment of his work to be commented by himself, as he would eventually do for the rest of his time as a teacher in the hills of Sirdonia.
I like to connect the numbered-dots cartoon extending on the fabric of time with these crayons’ colors: I don’t write often. I’m a doctor anyway. And I fucking hate english. But, hey, look! Don Masochismo is here right on time to save us, again!
“Push yourself always in the direction you are least likely to succeed, while dreaming every day over office coffee with the pleasures that successful life would provide you.” —Don M.
Or it could just be that I have nothing to say.
My life’s pretty dull, actually.