What is it that drives us on? That pushes us to discover, to invent, to create? There is no 'human spirit,' no inherent indomitable quality, nothing other than this: We make our greatest strides when we are uncomfortable where we are. Discomfort, not need, is the mother of invention. That prickling, tingling, itching desire to be somewhere else.
And that is my gift to you. To all of humanity. You feel it now, yes? That first twitching uneasiness? That feeling will only grow. But not too much; my machine is not meant as a torment.
Embrace it with me now.
That Pot Or Vase I Think
1 day ago