Тонкое искусство пофигизма
Chapter 9
It’sbeautiful.
I’matSouthAfrica’sCapeofGoodHope,oncethoughttobethesoutherntipofAfricaandthesouthernmostpointintheworld.It’satumultuousplace,aplacefullofstormsandtreacherouswaters.Aplacethat’sseencenturiesoftradeandcommerceandhumanendeavor.Aplace,ironically,oflosthopes.
ThereisasayinginPortuguese:EledobraoCabodaBoaEsperança.Itmeans,“He’sroundingtheCapeofGoodHope.”Ironically,itmeansthattheperson’slifeisinitsfinalphase,thathe’sincapableofaccomplishinganythingmore.
Istepacrosstherockstowardtheblue,allowingitsvastnesstoengulfmyfieldofvision.I’msweatingyetcold.Excitedyetnervous.Isthisit?
Thewindisslappingmyears.Ihearnothing,butIseetheedge:wheretherockmeetsoblivion.Istopandstandforamoment,severalyardsaway.Icanseetheoceanbelow,lappingandfrothingagainstcliffsstretchingoutformilestoeitherside.Thetidesarefuriousagainsttheimpenetrablewalls.Straightahead,it’sasheerdropofatleastfiftyyardstothewaterbelow.
Tomyright,touristsaredottedacrossthelandscapebelow,snappingphotosandaggregatingthemselvesintoantlikeformations.TomyleftisAsia.InfrontofmeistheskyandbehindismeiseverythingI’veeverhopedforandbroughtwithme.
Whatifthisisit?Whatifthisisallthereis?
Ilookaround.I’malone.Itakemyfirststeptowardtheedgeofthecliff.
