Again we mock the human soul. Again we mock the human spirit. The cadres of popular imagery are apparent no more. Damn the torpedoes, all speed ahead. The more we behave the better we become at ability. The more we are drunk with the powers of observation, the more we are observant of the void. The emptiness of the great desert of formless nothing haunts our futures and it is a barren desert, a hot dry place.
The landscape gets cold at night, a counterpoint to the extreme heat of the day. It is an uninviting place, the future in times of trouble and uncertainty. It mocks us, our belief in it, in its presence, its shape. It can retreat and hide, run away or crush. It stares us down a hungry lion.
Deal with what isn’t there. Build monuments to what is not real.
A view from the other side.
A view from trying to beard the tremulous lion.
Both from The Washington Post
Robert Samuelson Washington Post