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July 20, 2020 / Congau


It is the essence of a moment; an overly conscious effort to celebrate with all the symbols available to the imagination. The tuxedos in contrasting black and white and the elaborate women’s dresses turning people into objects of an occasion and deleting any hint of private individuals. They are not here to be themselves.

Are we ever out there to be ourselves? Every day is not a gala, but once we step out of our homely sanctuary, we cease to be individuals and become representatives of our own shadows. How can it be otherwise? The world is not interested in who we are, and we do not care to know if there are thinking beings out there. We are happy to see the splendor of what merely appears to be.

Do you think I am complaining about the emptiness of a gala performance? It is not any emptier than what it represents. It portrays people that never were people, but now at least they are made into something. If the world is just appearance, if social life is always fake, this is at least its best instance of pretense and deception.

The essence of the moment of celebration: no one quite knows what is being celebrated, their petty wealth perhaps or the victory someone else has won, it does not matter. By catching a cloud of smoke and holding it in one’s grasp for a moment a meaning is created out of nothing.

Is it possible? Does emptiness have an essence? Of course not. But imagine what it would be worth if there was actually something behind it. If the splendor of people represented splendid people. If the image was not one of decadence but of true greatness and an elevated spirit. If the gala had a meaning. But then, who would care to participate?

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