What is this world? What is it that’s all around me? Who am “I”? Is there an “I”? And if there is an I where am I going? What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I to do?
I have been asking myself these questions from the beginning, I have always been at the foot of the wall. I have always been in front of a locked door. There is no key. I am waiting for the answer whereas I ought to provide it myself, to invent it. I keep waiting for a miracle which does not come. Presumably there is nothing to understand.