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What l have painted next is the time of his great disappointment, and that is why the place here seems to be nothing but a dark spot. Not a child any morę, but a young man with the head mixed up with the blend of values. He was like Kordian, who lost his faith in everything. Anyway, he did not stop asking himself about his intellectual destination, and as eve-rybody knows: those who ask, will find the answer one day. And so he did find it, following Schopenhauera philosophy of emptiness, his metaphys-ics of nihilism 'Closed in the circle of dreadful vtsions, I shall never come out’ (Juliusz Słowacki). For the first time he came across somebody shar-ing the similar point of view. He restricted his point to the idea that there was nothing valuable at the horizon, and the earth would stay the worst place ever and forever - that is what I have meant leaving this part empty. As for heaven he said: Not a single interesting man in heaven'. What shall I add to this, well, Socrates will help me to describe the scene: 'A mistake is a privilege of philosophers, only a fool never makes one'. As a result all his negative feelings about the world were strengthened as he finally found his spiritual supporter.

No further explanations

Now that I have madę it all elear, we can go further. We are in Switzer-land, the land of chocolate, watches and banks. But that is not what he was searching for going to Basel. He was given Ph.D. degree only be-cause he moved there to teach classic languages. One might say it was not his own choice and he soon got bored of it. His thoughts about the

struggling with being absent minded got painful. I see the border here, his own sword turned with its Sharp spike right to his mind. The world started to be the worst of the places not only in his mind but also all around him. Perhaps he was still facing the everyday reality, as he believed that: 'When a man finishes with himself, he does the most admirable thing ever. And only because of that he almost deserves to live'

Give me some pastels, red ones as one never knows what life may bring you tomorrow. So he joined the army again, his infinite feeling of ob-ligation to fight the State enemies got enormous. At the time, being an or-derly he discovered his aversion to blood and watching others suffering. Spili some red here - appropriate time and place! Soon he got ill so he quit the army Corning back to the life of philosopher- this is what I draw.

river twice (Heraclitus), and so was with our hero. He tried to move back rushing ahead. However, the experience he had already collected by then taught him that the will to live cannot be found in the tragic fight for sur-vival but in the will to make war, to govern and dominate. This was nothing but Darwin's assumption of the theory of evolution - he strongly opposed that, on the basis of what war had taught him. Here I add two cards: the black and the white one, as that which he agreed with Darwin about was that life was fight, and referring to Schopenhauer^ he said that all pain and suffering caused by this fight was absolutely pointless and empty; he madę his point a bit torn apart like the contrast between my cards. Have you noticed ? It is not a painting anymore... But, anyway, only masters would be able to find themselves happy in such reality.

Time for musie

Meanwhile he found a person to admire. Apparently his youth was chasing him. Being a young boy, he tried to write musie, and he was surę he understood it. Now he had an opportunity to confront his thoughts and feelings about musie. I am sorry I cannot provide you with musie, I can write a picture, but unfortunately I cannot draw musie. All in all, his mutual friendship with Wagner madę him even write a book, the 'non - scientific' one, as graded by scholars, but popular with readers. Now it is show time and he wished he had never supported Wagner. 'The ring of the Nibelun-gen', the promised rebirth of German nationalist visions, was lost, his par-adise was lost, everything was lost. Having put his trust in Wagner, he was madę to tum away with great disappointment.

Creeping death

The interior crisis burst again with great force: disability to write and publish, lack of any interests, resignation from academic activity. Look: I am trying to reflect the picture of life pulling him down. He felt sick, he could not breathe any morę; strictly closed in the wrap of his own philosophy, he was only waiting for death to come. But it would not come. It was not his philosophy that was tragic, it was his life. Albert Camus would say: 'To fight abstraction one should be at least a bit similar to it', and that ex-plains how my hero morę or less got over the worst. On the other hand, he did not overcome disability of believing in positive sides of life. I should put a hologram here: three-dimensional picture to enable you to see that what he did was releasing himself from tides in the first dimension. The next two are out of his reach. For the time, he had planned his own funer-al, and he waited with patience, which - regarding his character - could be called optimism.

Love versus hate

How could that happen? Nobody knows, he simply got struck one day. All his peaceful waiting for the end was smashed. I have no idea how to draw love. Perhaps I will just insert a velvet thunder to my collage. Unfortunately, it never rains but pours. His sister disliked his beloved, and what was morę she never accepted her. First of all, it was her nationality: Salome was Jewish, and, secondly, it was nothing but pure jealousy. A man forced to choose between love to his lover and the love to his sister will choose the former, and will surely hate the one who compelled him to make such a choice. My hero - all was against you, now you even con-demned your own sister.

Last nail to the coffin

I have wanted to draw you a picture, I have wanted you to understand, but how can I explain it if he did not want us to understand. I give up, I am not painting any morę, now you have to imagine it for yourself. Now he is looking for solitude, living alone with all his existential pains. Drama of the master - disability to live according to his own philosophy. Napoleon once said: 'Geniuses are like meteors. Their destiny is to bum down giv-ing brightness to the time they lived in'. His brightness was over, the last stab from the fate he was given was being left by the sister.

-    To your great astonishment, she did leave, condemned but beloved anyway!

So now you were alone indeed! You tried to lift your burden but throughout all your life you did not manage to. As a result you crane your neck to admire the hill you have never possessed, destination you were heading to, not able to reach or even touch it. Was that because of your tragic wisdom..?

3^,a of January 1889, you saw a coachman hitting a horse. You thought it was cruel, so you ran. Why? You did not know, and as always you fell before the finish. Time is over, your psyche collapsed. Aware of nothing, psyehically unconscious, you asked:

-    Why are you erying Elizabeth, aren’t we happy?

(...) Another time you stated:

-1 have also written a few good books...

Just to turn silent ever sińce.

...books not fully read, friends not fully loved, cities not fully toured, women not fully possessed' (Albert Camus). You died on 25^,h August 1900

Post Scriptum

I hope you forgive me I have not finished my picture. The reason is simple. I admire and I condemn my hero. 'Yes, no, straight linę, target' -I wish I could see him reach it. I have tried to show that I have not found any masters in his life; after all, he who gave birth to them, had never found them himself. That is what I consider a true drama. What I take for granted is that here is no god; only a human can be a god to another hu-man - wisdom can never be tragic, it does not drive people crazy; in contrast to the lack of respect to ourselves.

'What we do is never understood...' - your tour is completed, you have just met Frederick Nietzsche. See you in some other story, another

BIP I 34 - PAŹDZIERNIK 2004 R. I