Finally an honest and fictitious bus trip

“I’m in a bad way”, “I’ve got a headache”, “I’m out of money” — all of these and a multitude of utterances like these are an undeniable truth for the vast majority all the time. At the first opportunity, they would say how hurt they are.

So, what’s the using repeating them, if knowing that they are true and by saying them, it won’t change anything? By repeating these sentences, we don’t just repeat them verbally, but, worse than that, we repeat the posture and ferocity of its destruction, engendering nothing: there’s no life being created. When John Milton’s Satan finally gets to heaven, he says he doesn’t feel much difference in his body, because he carries hell within him wherever he goes; he is his own hell.

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Gustave Doré’s illustration for John Milton’s Paradise Lost

What do I mean by all this? Apparently, there are just bad things about this, but not quite! These all points to the fact that the creation of something is not really in the object itself, but in the involvement with it, whatever it is. This involvement is not impregnated by that “truth”, which is nothing but an addiction, the opposite of something that one can create. Just this kind of involvement alone will be an opposite movement to those that paralyzing affirmations that I’ve said at the beginning. Which, I repeat, all of us can easily utter them, and, for that very reason, no one wants to hear.

Thus, being art not in what one can do but in the way one does, we can glimpse a light in a path that is so darkened by ourselves: with so much technology created by man, being capable of discovering that the biggest technology is in ourselves is an almost criminal act!

It seems as if looking into the future is also looking into the past: maybe man who had no access to anything but himself would be able to create the wheel in the future: the wheel that will make him back off and stop and look around, look into himself!

To access something divine that is inside of us, something deceitful, because is not that “truth”, that nobody tells us about ourselves, this seems to be something that hurt our most intimate law, it seems like looking at God Pan, which can drive a person who looks at him truly mad!

I keep thinking that maybe these contradictions pertaining to paganism may be one of the factors that blew him away from our culture. For us, maybe we only know that there are religions related to heaven and hell, because we can quickly diminish these concepts into good or bad, into true or false, turning off all its magic.

That can also make the book by Milton Paradise Lost so distant from us; it’s more unnoted than Shakespeare, for example, which is almost his coeval.

Milton is erotic, he doesn’t classify Satan into a bad villain nor God into a good guy. It’s contradictory, he shows us how truth can be the greatest lie of all by doing something that we never think we could be capable of. He shows us we can believe in what we do not believe. Instead of that, we insist on wanting to close our eyes in front of a colorful rainbow after the rain.

Feeling all these is fantastic, I wonder how it would be like to transform this feeling into something visible to people — this grunt into speech. I don’t feel sadness for having so many impediments, but feel happy to know that I can see through the cracks! And feel happy if I have the breath to keep asking why it is so hard to access the wonderful — even not to find the answer, the question is an act of courage and invention!

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Vernacular / Escritora / Papelaria autoral / Atelier do Centro

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