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The days of our future stand in front of us like a row of little lit candles.... golden, warm and lively little candles The days past remain behind us, a mournful line of extinguished candles; the ones nearest are still smoking, cold candles, melted and bent. I do not want to look at them, their form saddens me, and it saddens me to recall their first light. I look ahead at my lit candles. I do not want to turn back, lest I see and shudder at how fast the dark line lengthens, at how fast the extinguished candles multiply. Constantine P. Cavafy (1899) |
| October 2001 |
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