Once, for W., there was something good and true. Once, there was something right, a sense of what was right, and the path towards it. And now? The path petered out; W. was lost in the desert. And there I was, the idiot in the desert.
What path should we take? But there are no paths; every direction is equivalent. And what of the good and the true? What of the right? We should set out regardless. March, even though there's no destination.
Lars Iyer's Blog 