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- Марк Мэнсон
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- Тонкое искусство пофигизма
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- Стр. 110/115
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There
is
a
saying
in
Portuguese
:
Ele
dobra
o
Cabo
da
Boa
Esperança
.
It
means
,
“
He
’
s
rounding
the
Cape
of
Good
Hope
.
”
Ironically
,
it
means
that
the
person
’
s
life
is
in
its
final
phase
,
that
he
’
s
incapable
of
accomplishing
anything
more
.
I
step
across
the
rocks
toward
the
blue
,
allowing
its
vastness
to
engulf
my
field
of
vision
.
I
’
m
sweating
yet
cold
.
Excited
yet
nervous
.
Is
this
it
?
The
wind
is
slapping
my
ears
.
I
hear
nothing
,
but
I
see
the
edge
:
where
the
rock
meets
oblivion
.
I
stop
and
stand
for
a
moment
,
several
yards
away
.
I
can
see
the
ocean
below
,
lapping
and
frothing
against
cliffs
stretching
out
for
miles
to
either
side
.
The
tides
are
furious
against
the
impenetrable
walls
.
Straight
ahead
,
it
’
s
a
sheer
drop
of
at
least
fifty
yards
to
the
water
below
.
To
my
right
,
tourists
are
dotted
across
the
landscape
below
,
snapping
photos
and
aggregating
themselves
into
antlike
formations
.
To
my
left
is
Asia
.
In
front
of
me
is
the
sky
and
behind
is
me
is
everything
I
’
ve
ever
hoped
for
and
brought
with
me
.
What
if
this
is
it
?
What
if
this
is
all
there
is
?
I
look
around
.
I
’
m
alone
.
I
take
my
first
step
toward
the
edge
of
the
cliff
.
The
human
body
seems
to
come
equipped
with
a
natural
radar
for
death
-
inducing
situations
.
For
example
,
the
moment
you
get
within
about
ten
feet
of
a
cliff
edge
,
minus
guardrail
,
a
certain
tension
digs
into
your
body
.
Your
back
stiffens
.
Your
skin
ripples
.
Your
eyes
become
hyperfocused
on
every
detail
of
your
environment
.
Your
feet
feel
as
though
they
’
re
made
of
rock
.
It
’
s
as
if
there
were
a
big
,
invisible
magnet
gently
pulling
your
body
back
to
safety
.
But
I
fight
the
magnet
.
I
drag
the
feet
made
of
rock
closer
to
the
edge
.
At
five
feet
away
,
your
mind
joins
the
party
.
You
can
now
see
not
only
the
edge
of
the
cliff
,
but
down
the
cliff
face
itself
,
which
induces
all
sorts
of
unwanted
visualizations
of
tripping
and
falling
and
tumbling
to
a
splashy
death
.
It
’
s
really
fucking
far
,
your
mind
reminds
you
.
Like
,
really
fucking
far
.
Dude
,
what
are
you
doing
?
Stop
moving
.
Stop
it
.
I
tell
my
mind
to
shut
up
,
and
keep
inching
forward
.
