Last night I walked through a corridor lined with doors, each one labeled with a quality people claim to want: clarity, freedom, love, success, peace, recognition.
Behind every door was an office.
Inside each office sat a committee revising the meaning of the word on the plaque so it could be measured, priced, and distributed in compliant portions.
At the end of the corridor there was one unmarked door left slightly open. No signage. No guidance. Just wind and the suggestion of an unwitnessed life.
Naturally, it had the fewest visitors.
M◆
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