I’ve been driving non-stop the last two days. The heat seemed to have made its way from you to me, we’ve had the two hottest days since a long time here in Europe. Storms predicted, and also, none came.
As you know, the journey I’m currently undertaking isn’t the happiest one. Time and again, I look for traces in stone, bronze, film, paint or words for reassurance that all will be fine after this machinery of annihilation 70 years ago. Is it even possible. And what about the other side of the spectrum, the serenity, the beauty, the positive? Hope? Are we a self fulfilling prophecy?
Am I looking too hard? Am I burdening with meaning?
The powerless angel, and the connection of past, present and future through Paul Klee’s painting. Unable to learn throughout and from history, piling mistake upon mistake, violence upon violence, destruction upon destruction. Ruin upon ruin.
Cataclysmic events happen at an ever greater speed and size. Maybe there should be a Moore’s law for humanity as well, defining that the cycle and magnitude of historical events halves and doubles in each generation.
But to me it will always be the little things. Amidst all this calamity, I always still see our greatest power, our humanity, seeping through. In spite of, one may say, and that may well be so.
And you’re right, seeing can not make us complicit by default. I was too harsh. We can’t fully understand. Luckily, once in a while the veil is lifted, the fig leaf pushed aside to offer us a glimpse. We can’t understand and we can’t know. But we do get our glimpses, right?
Pia just had woken up and didn’t have the slightest interest in having her picture taken. Day breaking, the grogginess of her sleep visibly slowly leaving her, my flash fires by accident entirely. An angel.
What would she have dreamt about.