Reading an interview with Wolfgang Beltracchi, an art forger, the key statement to me was, when he said, that he wanted to perfect the style of the artists he forged.
Today we apparently seem to live in the age of the perfect, but turning his statement topsy-turvy it made me feel like the more perfect anything is, the more it is likely to be false. The perfect as a superficial feature, as the brilliant surface is only there to hide the shallowness, or worse senseless nothingness behind it.
A perfect life is no life at all, so quit the perfect and let's start living.
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