tattoosandwhores

I suppose it is out of laziness that the world is the same day after day. Today it seemed to want to change. And then, anything, anything could happen.

"Yes? Is that what you wanted? Well, that's exactly what you've never had (remember you fooled yourself with words, you called the glitter of travel, the love of women, quarrels, and trinkets adventour) and this is what you'll never have-and no one other than yourself." But WHY? why?

I have never had adventures. Things have happened to me, events, incidents, anything you like. But no adventures. It isn't a question of words; I am beginning to understand. There is something to which I clung more than all the rest-without completely realizing it. It wasn't love. Heaven forbid, not glory, not money. It was... I had imangined that at certain times my life could take on a rare and precious quality. There was no need for extraordinary circumstances: all I asked for was a little precision. There is nothing brilliant about my life now: but from time to time... I look back and tell myself...I have moments, I have had adventures. Now I am deprived of this. I have suddenly learned, without any apparent reason, that I have been lying to myself for ten years. And naturally, everything they tell about in books can happen in real life, but not in the same way. It is to this way of happening that I clung so tightly