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Wednesday, February 11, 2015

A tale by Khalil Gibran, Here at least i can be myself

I was walking on the gardens of an insane asylum when I met a young man reading a philosophy book.
For his manners and the health he portrayed, he didn’t quite match with the patients there. I sat beside him and asked: “What are you doing here?” He looked at me surprised. But as he saw that I wasn’t one of the doctors, he answered: “That’s very simple. My father, a brilliant lawyer, wanted me to be like him.
“My uncle, owner of a large commercial warehouse, wanted me to follow his example. My mother wanted me to become the image of her beloved father. My sister always cited her husband as the example of a well succeeded man. My brother tried to train me to become an excellent athlete like him.”
“And the same happened with my teachers at school, the piano teacher, the English tutor: all of them were convinced and resolute; they were the best examples to be followed. No one looked at me like someone should look to a man — but as if they looked into a mirror.”
“That way, I decided to admit myself in this asylum. Here at least, I can be myself.”


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