October 19
Just as, with roasts and other dishes, you can say to yourself: this is the corpse of a fish, this the corpse of a bird; the Falernian is grape juice, the purple toga sheep's wool dyed with the blood of a snail — such impressions reach the things themselves and go right through them: you see what they are.
Meditations VI.13
Listening mode
Just as, with roasts and other dishes, you can say to yourself: this is the corpse of a fish, this the corpse of a bird; the Falernian is grape juice, the purple toga sheep's wool dyed with the blood of a snail — such impressions reach the things themselves and go right through them: you see what they are.
Before a difficult conversation you sit in a corridor and wait. The door is tall, there is a title on the nameplate, and from inside you hear muffled voices. Everything seems arranged to make you feel small.
You can take another look at the corridor: linoleum, a chair with a worn backrest, a wooden door. Behind it sits a person who is probably also glancing at the clock and wondering when to have lunch today. This description doesn't make the conversation any easier. What gets decided in it still matters to you.
But importance and intimidation are two different things. One belongs to the matter itself, the other to the room, the nameplate and the way you have to wait here. If you keep the two apart, you have more attention left for what you want to say.
The door opens. It is still tall.
