Life is a tedious boredom that has to be lived.
It looks a bit like I am alone, without talking, silently working, sleeping, and eating. From dawn to dusk, we are also quietly in the office and family, with our own world, thinking about our own thoughts.
As we grow older, everything takes on a slow color, but we are used to calling it "steady." We know for ourselves that it's just that time no longer allows us the luxury, we are already on the highway, and we have nothing but the front.
God created everything in the "seven days", and the movie ends on the "sixth day", whether there is a deep meaning or not, Nietzsche and his daughter will also remain silent until the seventh day.
The Horse of Turin is a harbinger of his own. I began to understand some of his madness before he died. He didn't need the world to understand, and refuting everything the world talked about was useless nonsense. And in his own world, or the spiritual world, is an old man sitting by the window, describing the world he saw, his aesthetics, his philosophy, his God died in the early morning of the sixth day. There is no sun god, no Dionysian, we see no revelry, nor order, but a slow routine. His Zarathustra was still wandering, and he was trapped in the wind and snow, waiting for the brother who took him away.
The water will dry up, the fire will go out, and we must live.
Yeah, Mom, I'm so stupid.
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