Ezzes of Estis | Daughters

And what comes at the end?

That which comes at the end itself has no end. On the one hand, that sounds very philosophical, but on the other hand, of course, it is, because it's all about the end, and when it comes to the end, everyone becomes philosophical. Nevertheless, in the end, philosophy, philology, psychology, and phantasmagoria also come to an end, and they all merge into the nonsense that was already at the beginning and will still be at the end, and even beyond, because the nonsense is infinite.

But what comes at the end, apart from the nonsense, when philosophy ends? At the end comes something that isn't philosophical at all. At the end comes something that everyone has. Why? Because everything must have an end, so at the end there must be something that everyone has.

To that end, I'll tell you a great , little story. Do you know my nephew Motja? If not, that's okay, because you probably have a nephew Motja yourself. And if you don't have a nephew Motja, that's okay, too, because you might have a grandson Jascha or an uncle Arik, or perhaps, conversely, you yourself are a nephew Motja, which amounts to the same thing, or at least almost, and "almost" in turn amounts to almost the same as "quite."

Do you know what happened to Motja? A lot of things happened to Motja. For example, what happened to Motja was that he sat around for days and nothing happened.

So nephew Motya, the idler, the pusstepassnik , sat on his toches all day long, as firm as lard on bread, as eternal as a star in the firmament, as heavy as a rock on the desert floor, as immutable as the law in the Scriptures. Like which law? Like every law, but also, for example, like the one that says everything has an end and that in the end the toches always comes. And just as immutably, nephew Motya sat on his toches all day long – so immutably that it wouldn't have made the slightest difference if he hadn't been nephew Motya at all, but grandson Yasha or Uncle Arik, or even both together.

Of course, it was better for nephew Motja to sit on his toches than if he hadn't sat on his toches, but rather on his shoulders, for example, or his temples—or even more so on someone else's toches. But it was also significantly worse than if he hadn't sat on his toches at all, neither on his toches nor on anything else, and had instead done something.

"Motja, do something!"

"But I'm doing something, and not only that, I'm even doing something else!"

"Beseder, all right, but what are you doing?"

"Don't you see? I'm sitting on my Toches!"

So in doing it, he did nothing, but if he had done something, he would have had to stop doing it.

Yes, it really would have been better if Motja hadn't just sat around on the toches, but had been doing something. But to do that, Motja would have had to get up from his toches, which neither he nor the other wanted. Why not the other? Because the purpose of a toches is to sit on it, which is why the toches lived up to its purpose, in complete contrast to Motja, whose purpose was actually to pursue something.

So, while Motja sat on his Toches, his destiny passed him by. In fact, it is another destiny of the Toches that something, or even everything, should pass him by; and this destiny of the Toches was also fulfilled thanks to Motja. That's almost all that happened to Motja: nothing.

For while it is a law that everything must have an end, it is not the same as saying that everything has a sensible, beautiful, and complete end. So what comes at the end? Something that everyone has, namely the Toches. Why? Because everything passes him by.