Over the years, it
has become so much easier to do that. So much so that at this point I almost
don’t mind losing words, titles, phrases, sentences, scenes and even
characters. It’s becoming a habit or perhaps an act of defiance.
The reason for this
blissful cruelty is the fact that as you’re getting older, the bigger picture
is becoming infinitely more important. Self-love doesn’t go away, not if it was
there from the start, but it acquires new angles.
Suddenly, you can do
even better. You can play Abraham until the bloody end. And you can actually
find a different darling. Who is more perfect and a lot less suicidal.
