«Τ
he most painful feeling, the most piercing
emotions are also the most absurd ones – the longing for impossible things, precisely because they
are impossible, the nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what might
have been; one’s bitterness that one is not someone else or one’s dissatisfaction
with the very existence of world. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness
create a raw landscape within us, a sun eternally setting on what we are. Our sense of ourselves then becomes a deserted field at nightfall with sad reeds flanking a boatless
river bright in the darkness growing between the distant shores.»
Fernando Pessoa,
The Book of Disquiet (Το βιβλίο της ανησυχίας)
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