My Talent

My Talent

My talent, he said, is the little red flower I wear in my lapel on the way to the gallows.
And of course what he meant by this was, that at this particular time, in this particular state of mind, his talent seemed irrelevant and inconsequential: an innocuous little thing which in itself had no power, and therefore could not in any way alter the factual conditions of his life or forestall its inevitable conclusion.