Wednesday, July 27, 2005


She'll tell you that you're living your life all wrong. That your quest for personal wealth is stunting your quest for self. That you read the wrong books, watch the wrong movies. That you waste your time with the ease of companionship. Tarantulas - that's what Friedrich called people like her. Creatures who crawl along the ground, their only delight to poison, take down, those who walk above them. Like the singular structure of a lighthouse standing amongst the crags of a lonely island, she thinks of her solitude as strength. But strength is not to be found in living life alone; strength is to be found in living life alone amongst others.

Does a lighthouse still function if no-one is around to see its brilliance? Its light continually strobes out to sea unseen by human eyes, untested by human intelligence. But it's easy for such a lighthouse to remain satisfied. Its goal is to lead others to safety, and in this, it achieves a %100 rate of success - if only because there is no-one to lead. Constructed by men of mortar and bricks, years will pass and this lighthouse will fall to neglect; its keeper will die, and the whole thing will be forgotten, becoming one of a countless number of crumbling towers, their dead lights pointing out to a barren sea.

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