Friends

Last night I was chat­ting with some girl from Tehran and she asked me if I have many friends. I had to think about it, and sad­ly the answer is no. There are many many peo­ple who are good friends to me, and very few to whom I am a good friend.

This is sad because if I’ve dis­cov­ered even uncon­scious­ly that it’s eas­i­er to make friends than to keep friends, what kind of mon­ster have I become?

I detest the «dis­pos­able» eth­ic that seems to per­me­ate our cul­ture. To think I do the same thing with human lives – par­tic­u­lar­ly the lives of those who love me – is more dis­turb­ing than I care to admit