/lit/ - Literature

Man loves order, and where he finds none, he brings it to life, he spreads a thin cloth over chaos, for better or worse. Life is not white or black, but grey, or if you prefer it: colourful. Nevertheless many thoughtful minds look at purity, finality, ultimate goals as things to be achieved. Life, in their understanding, is a constant ascent toward something, a means to an end. All too often the ascent fails because the goal has been set the wrong way. It would be more appropriate to view the ascent, the attempt to reach the goal, as life's goal itself; the purpose of life as "getting closer without ever reaching it", a failed project, that nevertheless has enough splendour to be pursued for its own sake. The finish line is crossed with the first step that one takes, but one has to keep going to remain in the race, or else be kicked out of enjoying the victory lap. Purpose is not a final goal that can be reached, but a process that can be partaken in. The focus lies, naturally, not on moving toward something, but on movement itself. Just like in Skyrim or Fallout 3.