Bookmark #611

I walked through the foggy evening and reached the golden cafe, and for a second, I thought it was all a dream. Then, I ordered my coffee, and I sat for an hour, and I realised it was all real. This was a real moment, and I was alive, living this life in the middle of December. There are times we feel angry at the world, there are times we feel confused, and then there are moments we feel sure of ourselves. Rare as they are, they make all the anger and confusion worth it. That is all we long for in life: an ephemeral moment of clarity, when the traffic sings in a symphony, when the coffee tastes like a potion from heaven, when every part of the world glows with a sort of mundane magic.

No sunset, no dazzling view, and no starry sky can make you feel the comfort of a moment of pure belonging. We are often so lost that even the most beautiful, profound experience is only a temporary high. Happiness can occur in a million ways, but the joy you feel when buying groceries at the supermarket, when the cashier wishes you a good evening, and you tell them to have a good one, is different. It is so much more personal and more lasting. We think we crave the epic, but it is the ordinary that we need. Ironically, we only learn this when we have chased behind the awesome and have had it overstay its welcome, when the eventfulness proves to be a bit too much. The person who is happy during a relaxed lunch is pleased in all corners of the world, but first, he must travel to the corners of the world to experience the disappointment firsthand. It is a cruel lesson. You must get what you thought you wanted and have it snatched from you, and then, and only then, can you truly enjoy a cup of coffee on a brumal evening.

I sat there, and I thought about this. Eventually, I got tired. So, I called a friend over the phone, and we talked about life and joked a little. What a banal evening, I thought, what a wonderfully banal evening.

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