The Da Vinci Road
In common with most roads, the Da Vinci road was a dead end. No possible way to be found at the end of it. Turn around and try again. How many roads? How many times can you pick yourself up again, turn and continue, when certain of disappointment, of failure. There’s nowhere to go. Nothing that helps. Even a small glimpse of a new road, you know. The painful momentary frisson of hope. That beastly feeling, the cruellest of emotions. Hope one cannot help but feel that Da Vinci was an optimist. He looked to the future, he dusted himself off, he continued to more and better things. Da Vinci was, of course, a genius. I am a twat.
Today I wrote between 13:00 and 13:10. I was prompted by an idea here.
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