Harvey walked his loneliness as others would walk their dogs. He would collect the little things, a mundane event, the weather of the day and sometimes take a picture with his polaroid. He would slip his views and writings into a notebook. After a few years Harvey had become an explorer of the everyday and a collector of a new kind.
He did not believe that everything had been discovered and that nothing new could happen. For Harvey, there were still untapped and infinite resources, starting with the human interior. He had decided to dedicate himself to this research for the rest of his life. He was not in pursuit of precious stones, works of art or forgotten temples in the depths of inhospitable jungles, but of something that he himself could not define.
Harvey had many notebooks filled with notes and photos. That morning he sat on one of the park benches next to an old lady.
She turned to him and asked:
- Are you a writer?
- I write but I am not a writer
- It's just for you
- That's what it is
The old lady squinted her eyes as she looked towards the kindergarten. After a long silence she said:
- Excuse my indiscretion, but what are all these notebooks for?
- I am looking for some light, I am trying to understand myself
- It is normal not to understand everything. It is our way of living this incomprehension that distinguishes us from one another. I just have to come here and observe. Look at these children, for example. What does that inspire you?
- They are not aware of the passage of time and this may be the source of their happiness. They easily get in touch with each other. They have fun with little, pieces of wood, stones. They succeed most naturally where others fail throughout their lives. It makes me think of this sentence of Nicolas Boileau: "He who lives contentedly with nothing possesses everything".
- Is this the kind of stuff you write in your notebooks?
- Yes, I must have written it down somewhere
- Yes, but where did you write it down? In your notebook, in your brain or in your heart? Do you have children?
- No, I don't. For a while I lived with a woman who wanted them
- And you didn't want them?
- In fact, it was a time when I was very often annoyed and for nothing. One day I found myself alone with my anger.
The old lady nodded her head. She moved closer to him, stretching her wrinkled neck:
- You remind me of a penitent. You've never actually forgiven yourself.
Harvey didn't know what to say. Deep down he knew the old woman was right, but he couldn't accept it. She continued:
- You've gone from one extreme to the other
Harvey remained silent as she continued:
- One day anger and the next day penitence. A long time ago someone said "stop doing, and just experience being". Perhaps you should accept yourself, and especially forgive yourself.
The old lady got up with difficulty, leaning on her cane. Before leaving him alone with himself, she concluded:
- When you get there, you will find that light. Then you won't need to search anymore.
