A man walks through the fog of bad temper that he cannot dispel. This dense laziness that
envelops his body whispers to him that yielding is easier than resisting. Bitterness becomes his
habitual companion, his protective mantle against effort.
There are days when he gathers scattered fragments of willpower. His hands begin to move with
renewed determination and work, previously perceived as punishment, transforms into refuge. He
then discovers a secret pleasure in constant labor, a satisfaction that grows as effort bears fruit.
But he cannot always be master of his emotions nor control the dark rivers of his feelings. This
unpleasant sensation returns like an inevitable tide. He watches others be happy without his
intervention and something inside him silently breaks.
He sees smiles that owe him nothing and this is unbearable to him. He wonders if he can ever
conceal this discontent so as not to contaminate the surrounding joy. He recognizes within himself
that this bad mood stems from his own smallness, mixed with envy and fed by irrational vanities.
The truth reveals itself to him as he contemplates the happy world that exists without needing him.
His discontent is the mirror where he sees reflected his insignificance before the indifferent
universe that continues its eternal dance.