"Always leaving, but never arriving...", and thus the Greek story teller concluded with this remark. These words stuck with me; they reverberated in the background quite like the bass in a music composition - low on frequency, pulsating, subtle but nevertheless important for rhythm, for cue. The bass played even when the other (more talented) story tellers occupied the stage, and when he was cycling back home in a cold dark foggy night, and while brushing his teeth, and while lying wide awake before hitting the hay. Pretty sure he dreamt of it too because he woke up paraphrasing.
Some phrases, perhaps memory of some inane situations, some less than ordinary conversations stick with us because somewhere they open up a barrier or two, speak to us about our unknown selves, better our understanding (by impelling us to think out of our comfort zone) or may be they are just some elusive reminders of our gradual conditioning.
"Always leaving but never arriving' - he felt like a train, running through the same route, crossing same stations, living more or less same set of situations, always leaving for some place but never really arriving with a contented heart and satiated soul, since the next destination awaits much before the last journey ends.
However, 'arrival' I believe is always a choice, though seldom the easiest...
Best,
Kannav
