What if some day or night a demon were to steal into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: “This life as you now live and have lived it you will have to live once again and innumerable times again; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unspeakably small or great in your life must return to you, all in the same succession and sequence — even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself…”
– Friedrich Nietzsche

A yet lived life comes with new trousseau of thought and feeling. At times we have to give in to treading softly and happily as if we have to relive it all over again…and there are never too many moonlit paths, nor enough spiders.
That is why we write, to feel in the mouth the sky of the life already-lived.

Write down all the things that make you so goddamn glad you’re alive. Simple things like: watering plants, the sunlight that seeps on your bed at 10:00 A.M, smelling the crispy autumn air, dancing in the rain or playing in the snow, watching the sunrise or sunset, decorating your room with fairy lights, googling for surrealistic paintings, lighting too many candles in mid-days, eating pizza while watching your favorite show, searching how many people have the same name as you in the world…

Write down more ways and words to say: “I love you”… Armors for moments when you feel depleted and drenched of kindness. Dissolve this by writing.

This is my predicament, situations and people that make me forget who I am, how kind I am, who make my heart turn to stone, but who never, ever, were permitted to steal the real Me.

Léon Frédéric – Flemish Lace Maker