Brand: DAR AL FARQAD
MODEL: 9933505831
Al Hakim Buddha | Xavier Cornet
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The change also means that many ideal notions of happiness, which you think are permanent, are being destroyed day after day so that we discover that they were nothing but illusions, pure illusions and nothing more:
Happiness is a volatile, mercurial moment: it is born, grows, disappears, returns, and then does not. We know where she was or where she went!
When we search for her everywhere, search our pockets and minds, and ask trees, stones and water about her, there is no answer, when we look into holes in walls and pebbles, read books and folders, and squeeze our thoughts in vain, happiness becomes poisonous. It is, in the end, a moment of awareness of life that seeps through our fingers like sand.
Happiness is a volatile, mercurial moment: it is born, grows, disappears, returns, and then does not. We know where she was or where she went!
When we search for her everywhere, search our pockets and minds, and ask trees, stones and water about her, there is no answer, when we look into holes in walls and pebbles, read books and folders, and squeeze our thoughts in vain, happiness becomes poisonous. It is, in the end, a moment of awareness of life that seeps through our fingers like sand.
The change also means that many ideal notions of happiness, which you think are permanent, are being destroyed day after day so that we discover that they were nothing but illusions, pure illusions and nothing more:
Happiness is a volatile, mercurial moment: it is born, grows, disappears, returns, and then does not. We know where she was or where she went!
When we search for her everywhere, search our pockets and minds, and ask trees, stones and water about her, there is no answer, when we look into holes in walls and pebbles, read books and folders, and squeeze our thoughts in vain, happiness becomes poisonous. It is, in the end, a moment of awareness of life that seeps through our fingers like sand.
Happiness is a volatile, mercurial moment: it is born, grows, disappears, returns, and then does not. We know where she was or where she went!
When we search for her everywhere, search our pockets and minds, and ask trees, stones and water about her, there is no answer, when we look into holes in walls and pebbles, read books and folders, and squeeze our thoughts in vain, happiness becomes poisonous. It is, in the end, a moment of awareness of life that seeps through our fingers like sand.
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