The journey makes us change, grow, mature and make us acquire more wisdom. In the past men traveled a lot, traversing deserts and oceans hard to discover themselves. And we still live by their sentences, the fruit of painful journeys and countless explorations.
Life is a battleground. We have to assume that we are constantly at war. At war against the time that makes us grow old, against the regression of memory, against the uncertainty and doubt that frighten us …
In the same vein, I learned from my maternal ancestry to fight like a warrior conscripted by destiny. Always on the march, anchored forward, assiduously bold and brimming with daring. Whatever the result, I win. I win psychologically and I live the rest of my life proud, proud of the Victory.
There are people I have known with whom we exchanged friendships, even loves. Unfortunately, these friendships and loves were only superficial. At rough times, the atrocity cleared me of how unmistakably these relationships were futile and meaningless. At the end of the day, you just have to rely on yourself and little on those true friends.
Not studying, not learning languages, simply ignoring it, is a real handicap. Men are all born and die disabled. But by learning and training day after day, they alleviate their handicap.
This is how ignoring is a handicap now. Hardware failure is a handicap. But the health betrayal is the worst. I knew that whatever we do, no matter where we go, only fate guides us. And if we knew in advance what the latter had in store for us, life would have no meaning. All its wonder is inspired by the ambiguity of fate.
Such a brief past changed things. It became a whole life, took root in my veins, gave me back that much coveted hope and euphoria. So I became insensitive to evil, heedless of the world and its troubles. I disregarded that I had the feeling of having erased memory, knowledge, memories, childhood… But when I returned, I needed this memory so much to continue living and rather, to continue to to write.
I worked out for hours, every day, spread out over several weeks. The exercise was to re-instill in my memory the things that this brief past had blurred. Nevertheless, it was indeed a difficult exercise. That of re-instilling in his memory his old worries and endless worries. “But what an antithesis! do I have to poison my memory to continue living? ” I wondered. “This is just irrelevant rhetoric,” I replied after careful consideration. And while my memory poisons, this is what I live on. I learned then that we have to spice up his present with poison in order to live as chemists do to cure us.