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“Laughter and profound insight. A whole life could be built on these two items alone.”
“But what about money and all of that rot?”
“A lot of money pours from the mouth of laughter and profound insight.”
Hopeless dialog could fill the Villa at any moment as men and women felt some ineluctable conflict in themselves vanish. And on disappearing they felt it like the infamous phantom limb, always sensing the conflict was there where it had always been. Life would appear too good, too unreal if the inner conflict disappeared. Most had spent a lifetime wrapping their brains around the conflict to understand it and then cultivate it like a dangerous pet. It would be as if a precious car had been stolen from their garage and thrown them out of sync so for days they could think of nothing but the missing car and the violation it symbolized in a life that tried to tuck itself away from violations of every sort.
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