“Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again”, he kept telling me. I couldn’t really think of such thing, since when it’s lost, is gone forever. Maybe life will lead me back to the lost, or maybe I will find a way through it. But when I’m lost myself, how can I get it back?
“Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again”, he kept telling me.
I thought about it once, twice, but I was lost in my own thoughts. Considered Dante for a moment, and the fact of him being lost in life’s journey: “When I had journeyed half of our life’s way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray” (Dante, I. 1-3). He was lost, as well as I am right now. Lost in my mind, not knowing what to write about in order for you to find me and enlighten my path. I’ve lost everything I have right now: my ideas, my “path that does not stray”, you, and me myself. And he kept me saying the same thing: “Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again.”
If I could just travel in time, to about twenty minutes ago when I lost myself, maybe I would be writing better words for you. But I’m lost, and I cannot find the link to the letter, nor the letter to the word. “What if we are lost in time? We cannot find time can we?” I asked him, thinking of nothing more intelligent to say. Those words reminded me of a character I had once heard enouncing a speech at a baseball park. He said he was going to die, or something like that. I remember him saying, “It is high time I was dead...many years ago…If you protest, if you think that death is a terrible thing, then you have not understood a word I’ve said” (Vonnegut 142). He was indeed correct, he died minutes later.
“Space is where you are, time is when you are. If you lose time, you lose interest”, he told me, but not really answering my question. Time’s intangible, and therefore cannot be found again. But as it seems, this guy I’m talking to you about, found time after losing it. His name was Billy Pilgrim, he was “unstuck in time”, according to another friend of mine. He said that Billy’s life was meaningless, since he was lost in it.
But Billy was lost as well. Then, did he ever find it again? “He didn’t know where he was…he whispered to him his address: “Schlachthof-funf [Slaughterhouse-five]” (Vonnegut 156). He was lost and he found in Slaughterhouse-five a home. Maybe he was used to it in war, to identify this place as his only home. Pretty ironic due to the fact a slaughterhouse can be everything but a home. In it you will never find the warmth and cherish the love of a home. But in Billy’s case, he never found that home in his life. He would never tell the difference between dreams and reality. For him it was the same thing: meaningless memories. His life is all a memory, since every part of it he already lived it, and therefore remembers it. He died, we all know that. But did he ever find that aspect of life that he lost?
“Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again”, he told me once more.
“Stand still. The trees ahead and bush beside you are not lost”, I finally responded. I had found my way back to the path of my life, and hence, the end of my writing.
“Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again”, he kept telling me.
I thought about it once, twice, but I was lost in my own thoughts. Considered Dante for a moment, and the fact of him being lost in life’s journey: “When I had journeyed half of our life’s way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray” (Dante, I. 1-3). He was lost, as well as I am right now. Lost in my mind, not knowing what to write about in order for you to find me and enlighten my path. I’ve lost everything I have right now: my ideas, my “path that does not stray”, you, and me myself. And he kept me saying the same thing: “Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again.”
If I could just travel in time, to about twenty minutes ago when I lost myself, maybe I would be writing better words for you. But I’m lost, and I cannot find the link to the letter, nor the letter to the word. “What if we are lost in time? We cannot find time can we?” I asked him, thinking of nothing more intelligent to say. Those words reminded me of a character I had once heard enouncing a speech at a baseball park. He said he was going to die, or something like that. I remember him saying, “It is high time I was dead...many years ago…If you protest, if you think that death is a terrible thing, then you have not understood a word I’ve said” (Vonnegut 142). He was indeed correct, he died minutes later.
“Space is where you are, time is when you are. If you lose time, you lose interest”, he told me, but not really answering my question. Time’s intangible, and therefore cannot be found again. But as it seems, this guy I’m talking to you about, found time after losing it. His name was Billy Pilgrim, he was “unstuck in time”, according to another friend of mine. He said that Billy’s life was meaningless, since he was lost in it.
But Billy was lost as well. Then, did he ever find it again? “He didn’t know where he was…he whispered to him his address: “Schlachthof-funf [Slaughterhouse-five]” (Vonnegut 156). He was lost and he found in Slaughterhouse-five a home. Maybe he was used to it in war, to identify this place as his only home. Pretty ironic due to the fact a slaughterhouse can be everything but a home. In it you will never find the warmth and cherish the love of a home. But in Billy’s case, he never found that home in his life. He would never tell the difference between dreams and reality. For him it was the same thing: meaningless memories. His life is all a memory, since every part of it he already lived it, and therefore remembers it. He died, we all know that. But did he ever find that aspect of life that he lost?
“Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again”, he told me once more.
“Stand still. The trees ahead and bush beside you are not lost”, I finally responded. I had found my way back to the path of my life, and hence, the end of my writing.
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