I often feel pangs of guilt when I make definitive choices about what to practise.

After all, the canons of the cultures I identify with have vast expanses of content and material.

Inner promptings tell me when to move on from specific genres, then I mourn for the time I invested in learning about them.

It’s as if I need to be loyal to my younger self, however misguided I might have been.

Energy and focused attention are more precious to me than they seemed to be, before.


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