Yet this is the moment of asking in what I still believe.
What if the literalness of my Garden is only a metaphor? What if all the rewards to be taken are to be claimed here and now, without any further delay? Shall I strive for becoming lovable if in all probability there will be no one to love me? Do I see a sufficient Platonic purpose in it? Am I ready for this final combat if there is no hope of any victory whatsoever? For the sake of what? Dignity? Greatness? Humanness? For the sake of myself as the last thing that remains?
I'm barely a month on this quest, and I found mainly bitterness, destruction and doubt. Is there anything positive to be found, anything at all beyond the ephemeral moment, suspended in the air like the flight of a kestrel?
And what does it mean "in all probability"? That in Poland there was no one to love me?
I am a complete woman, reliable, true to my word, with a reasonable CV as well as C-V distance, and a not inconsiderable awareness of intimate matters. And in all probability, I will be well established and taken even before the witch-hazel flowers lose their fragrance at the end of winter.