If I’m a storyteller it’s because I listen. For me, a storyteller is like aJohn Berger
passeurwho gets contraband across a frontier.
The reduction of ambition rightsizes one’s life. All of a sudden, those magnetic forces, trophies, hefty pocket books, and rich attractions lose their lure. All the stylization and mimetic desire mean little. The sheep collective drown in the waterfall of white fountains. What matters is cultivating a satisfaction with fomo that becomes intrinsic. The reward…Keep reading