In the dazzling, relentless, white light of Crete I had the chance to read, carefully, Joseph Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’. The brilliance of the text matched (or even surpassed) the gleaming sunlight.
I made a number of notes as I read the narrative and acknowledged the several ominous warnings that it contained. Amongst them, for example, is the recognition that our human being is marked forever by vulnerabilities and limitations – and that we are always susceptible to expressing the darkness in ourselves.
On page 100 of my copy, Marlow, the narrator, makes a telling observation about the most that we can ever really expect to achieve in our lives. Of ‘life’ itself he concludes:
‘… the most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself – [but] that comes too late – a crop of inextinguishable regrets …’
Note: It is difficult for me to disagree with Marlow.