Sheller

Victory over oneself is a banality, worn smooth by a thousand tongues. A coin rubbed away by long circulation in legends and parables, admonitions and moralities. No matter how much one proclaims at crossroads the greatness of such a victory, it will not become any more attractive to people. Thousands of far more understandable goals will overshadow the poor drudge, shove it aside, and be right to do so.

“I” is not the best target for a triumphant arrow.

To defeat oneself is a verb that does not exist in our speech. If there is no verb, does that mean there is no action? Sometimes I am happy, guessing that our speech is imperfect; sometimes I rejoice knowing that somewhere, someone nevertheless defeats himself despite everything; sometimes I simply remain silent.

From the notes of Nihon the Grey-Haired

Strength of spirit against the brand of blood. One on one inside the shell of one’s own Self. Mad is not the one who withdraws from the world, but the one who tries to walk through life with closed eyes. To see oneself—that is the true fear. Few succeeded in seeing themselves—Medusa Gorgon and the sheller Remi Bubchik—and the consequences were different... The Hanger-on