Everything that happens from the womb to the tomb is aligned in perfect harmony to create a unique piece in which each moment follows the previous one in a spontaneous and at the same time inevitable way.

It is a symphony formed by allegros and adagios that depend on each other to create a complex and delicious plot in which the course never stops and never errs.

Instead of appreciating this inescapable masterpiece, I call perfection my limited and capricious notion of what should happen and I label as imperfect everything that does not correspond to my expectations, without understanding that they break the underlying harmonic laws governing everything.

This is the ultimate cause of my suffering.