Since the modern penchant for revising history will roar ahead undeterred, no truth will ever really be known again except as apocryphal knowledge. This does not seem to bother anyone to any great extent because the meaning to their lives as individuals has already been negated by cultural forces that know the outcome of their efforts, that is, complete subordination and destruction of the individual, their past and future mapped out within only prescribed perimeters.
The culture has been so stripped down and denuded, no one can tell genuine culture from an artificial construct. Symbols, language, art have no meaning, for lack of authenticity. Everything created only emphasizes the division between the real and the unreal. Somehow lack of true freedom creates the schism between oneself and the world, so the latter is not looked upon as nourishment, but devoid of energy and substance.
But even worse is the loss of the soul so callously reinforced by almost everything advocated politically and put into place. The only question left is how far these forces will go, how far they will go to crush out humanity’s innate inviolability. Is not the happiness and self-determination of each individual more valuable than the collective mindset of the masses? There is no future worth aspiring toward if the future is erased. Its last vestiges cry in ripped shreds in the wind, and we wonder how to save it before it dries up and blows away forever. Given this scenario, there is no planet as barren as the human heart.
From Conversations with Mona Lisa (Bigio Morato, 2020)