And
so this life. It is arbitrary; its narrative is erratic.
I have been given a harsh understandig of the human
condition. I didn't ask for it, or seek it. André Malraux said that art
is a revolt against fate: l'art est un anti-destin. That's wha-t I
believed, but somehow fate got me by the throat anyway. Art was no help.
(p. 286) |