Virtue and Punishment

Natan Zoze

There are times when I lose my sanity and I mistake my virtues as punishments: to fly, watching from up above, brushing the clouds, caressing the sun, admiring the view of this city from a place where no one will ever be able to see it from, seeing how they wear out themselves and never sleep, never stop and just by observing them my days become exhausting.

What type of insensibility do I need to tolerate the gift I was given by nature? To tolerate the view I have from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep?