My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Tiring of Complexity
I sometimes wish things were less complex, just a bit simpler. Some days I can handle only simple explanations. I will take any answer that will not lead to another question. I appreciate the need for questions and the unavoidable confusion, but I sometimes tire of living with it.
Labels:
complexity,
questions,
simplicity
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