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Notes from Exile

Nothing could be more certain than being condemned to die.

Exile is not a place of isolation but the certainty of a crushing fate.

For him, all the day's rituals--getting up, brushing your teeth, meals, etc.--become absurdly funny. He still does them. But now he sees their emptiness and this consciousness makes him laugh.

In front of a tragedy, everything else becomes comedy.

Life becomes simplified as the future is retracted to the day you shall die. And the present is mere waiting. Nothing could be easier.

The body begins to acquire its weight. It is now solid, something that he delightfully carries. The skin becomes the most important organ for it is through which one feels anything. Outside of that feeling, nothing else affects you. Now you know what it feels to be alive again.

Fear is only for those who do not understand. In front of death, the man understands that beyond that there is nothing. And this simplicity affords him to die with dignity. He thus will not cry. Those who are led to their end never cry.

Remorse is the last thing one can think of. That is a laughable matter. What god can save him from this inevitable end? And if some god does come, that would render everything false. It's a tricky situation for a god. Thus, they remain silent.

What matters are the memories. And there are only a few of them in such a twilight. Moments when one was truly alive, when one truly loved. Anything else is forgettable. This is not nostalgia. It is just what he thinks of to pass the time.

And what does he have to lose anymore if everything has already been taken away? One must believe that he dies happy.


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