Dilettante

X tells me he’s realised it isn’t the fact that he isn’t himself that’s his problem, it’s the fact that he isn’t himself that saves him. Again his dilettantism comes to the rescue, he says. Because how much worse it would be to be himself, never to be able to escape from himself and his responsibilities! It would drive him mad, he says, to have no ways out, it would be like being confined to one room for the rest of his life. Once again his dilettantism saves him, he says, keeps him zapping between channels, picking up book after book without finishing any of them, walking from pub to pub, putting one foot carefully in front of the other.

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