What's hiding behind what we lack

Who knows what secrets lie within?


The artist is perhaps the only one who has embraced his own longing, revealing it to us, making himself as vulnerable as he is unattainable.

“I have a letter to send, but I’m missing an envelope. The letter sits on the shelf, sometimes I nudge it aside when it bothers me, but it’s always there. I need to remember to buy an envelope, and get rid of it off my table.”

Fulfillment is a denial of achievement, where nothing ever falls into oblivion. It’s the concept of a life free from fear or threat.
Aren’t these extensive “To Do Lists” pleasing because of their tasks? Do these shoes hold the same value if they are mine?

Desire is what humanity constantly struggles against, and will even continue to deny. Denial leads to misunderstandings but wards off adversity, which in itself is a common desire for acquisition.


One must achieve their desires for another to realize what they lack. If times evolved as we thought, we wouldn’t desire at the slightest shortfall.


To ease this suffering, it’s now more esteemed and valued to love one another and promote living together. Isn’t there a sacrifice of one’s own desires for the sake of society? Does the silence gained truly bring more happiness?

This sacrifice had a feminine aspect, until women chose to abstain.
Their abstinence disturbs. By demanding respect, they take up space and fill the void. If it appears as a sacrifice, it demands your gratitude.
A woman is “in love,” but it’s the lack that makes her so. She loves so deeply that one might give in to her, if she so desired. She falls in love at the sight of lack, and falls out of it as soon as she’s no longer invited to.


The fool loses himself in lack. It’s the work of his life, to help us understand it better.

he world seems to turn, leaving nothing to chance, yet still leaves us in a fog.

If a woman now trusts herself to bear her own lack, she denies her incompleteness and buries her jealousy by creating new ideologies.
The “bad man” is nothing but a man she doesn’t love, to whom she wishes to give nothing. Trapped with herself, she wonders, “Am I enough?” This dreadful realization of inadequacy fuels her desire for a greater lack, one that will accept her true worth.


Remaining unsatisfied, she challenges men and leads them to create.
Hope, the culmination of will, which pervades women, buries the object of desire and sends a man to unearth it.

Anyone can know, but who will let their desire lead them there?