I have confidence in everything that doesn’t make sense.
With my eyes closed, I entrust myself to that eccentric lady called spontaneity.
I grab nonsense by its hands and I let it guide me aimlessly… to infinity, and back.
On the way I absorb the providential nectar of chaos like a flesh-and-soul sponge and I feed my existence with the liveliness of life’s great disorder.
I’m kidnapped. I’m totally enraptured by my recklessness, and I fall in love with it because it’s only in this way that I can really grasp hold of existence.
It’s only in this way that I can embrace the life that I want. Stripped from every remnant of a rule, naked, as life really is: wonderfully risky and frighteningly itself and made of a substance that’s instinctively wise, and anarchic to the last drop of its essence.