If my desires are ever completely satisfied then what is left in life?
My desire to love. To bind. To learn.
This is not a story of self denial or anything similar. It’s just an acknowledgement of the fact that perfection of anything is the end of the line, the moment where progress becomes impossible.
I don’t know if it’s my blessing or my curse but, even when I’ve had a really good session there’s a part of my mind picking at possible improvements. It just wont stop. I hope it never stops.
As long as there is forward progress, I am happy.
I’m learning, I’m happy about that.