Parable of the Bricks
When I was a young man, I began searching for the meaning of life. Along the way, I wrote a travel journal, a mix of prose and poetry, and labelled it Fool’s Odyssey.
I knew the idealism of my Spanish Marxist friends was a false construct. But why? And why had each of my imaginary lives failed?
I wanted to be by myself. What a strange expression, “by myself.” How do you do that exactly, be by yourself? Anyway, I don’t know if I was trying to be by myself …
