reluctance

You can have Gertrude Stein’s brain or Cindy Crawford’s face, but not both. Which do you choose? But maybe you don’t appreciate Gertrude Stein’s writing, maybe you don’t find Cindy Crawford beautiful. Then do you choose neither, choose your own brain, your own face? But others find one brilliant, one stunning, mightn’t you be happier if people found you brilliant or stunning, mightn’t your life be easier or at least different? Or do you think you are happy. Do you say, I like my brain. I like my face. Here you’ve been given this extraordinary chance for something altogether else, something altogether new, and you choose neither? The same same? You call that happiness? Satisfaction, maybe. Which is not the same thing. Not at all.

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