Consolation Prize

Curiously my childhood doctor had an Arthur Schopenhauer set of philosophy books in his waiting room glass cabinet. Back then I didn’t know Schopenhauer from schadenfreude, but the books fascinated me. Seemingly out of place, they looked sterile, somehow instrumental, completely necessary… Years later I’d learn about Schopenhauer in philosophy classes, remembering the glass cabinet waiting room and childhood doctor appointments at which I would always be given the means to recovery… Last time I saw the doctor was at a funeral. He died shortly after the funeral, taking my secret with him. As a thought experiment, I sometimes imagine those Schopenhauer books are still behind glass, and that everything else has changed.

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