By the river’s edge one day my life was born. There, for the very first time, I breathed deeply the air of the wind— and began to live. And from the middle of the river I heard someone shouting: “Jump, brave one, into my water! Jump! Don’t you see? It’s only water— water pushing more water!” It was Heraclitus who cried out, and hearing his voice in that shout, my soul leapt into the water— only water, water pushing more water. And with what force my soul was dragged through this restless stream, that on the shore rested so gently— and yet, in the depths of its heart, warned no one of life and its perils. Heraclitus, Heraclitus— How can my soul return to that other riverbank?
