Time flies and there is no way to stop it. Horace in his famous ode Carp diem He proposes to his lover Leucónoe, as a solution, that he not think about the future and that he cling to the small pleasures that life offers him every day. This ode has been heavily used by all the happiness wholesalers with their self-help books. But the true disciples of Epicurus know that not every day is a good day to cling to for salvation, because today the world is in the power of criminals and idiots, to the point that there are days when Horace and his girlfriend would give their all. that it was to stay in bed. For my part, I would have no problem following the advice of the Latin poet as long as that day to which I must hold on was allowed to me to fabricate it to my liking. It should be a day in April, June or September with its corresponding lights and fruits. I would have to wake up to the song of the blackbirds and during a pleasant drowsiness, after stretching like my dog does, while Bach's Brandenburg concerto was playing, discover with pleasant surprise that nothing in my body or soul hurt. A loving 25 degree sun would allow me to walk by the sea and then sit mid-morning on a terrace in the shade of plane trees with a cold beer and some bitter olives and read the newspaper in which there would be no news of children destroyed by the bombs, nor braying politicians. Then I would have a fun meal with friends and precisely that day, as evening fell, that long-awaited call would occur. A very confident voice on the phone would let me know that the dream I had cherished for so long had finally come true. I would never know who had called me or what dream it was about. And back in bed I would like to fall asleep with my glasses hanging on the end of my nose and some poems by Walt Whitman between my legs.
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