They talk about the imminent end of the world.
An experiment that could prove fatal wrong.
I do not believe it.
Like just weave complex and hyperbolic speeches on my end and on the universal justice that would bring everything - from the slimy worm monaco enlightened - to become star dust, the same pain imperceptible, at the same speed, same moment. Losing everything and nothing. Why would be the end for everyone, without distinction.
And while television and newspapers contend that we are in danger of being swallowed by a black hole, I, an incurable romantic, I will continue to believe that, if we must call it quits, we will do so very romantic, and thus turning them into exploding nebula.
will return what we were: stardust.
donating extreme redemption in a death so stupid.
I like to imagine how it would, because I know that will not happen, and I read by chance "Blues at the end of the world" to McEwan, who performs so wonderfully well our apocalyptic sense.
This false threat of CERN is nothing but a sort of collective exorcism.
I am afraid that will not help, everything will flow inevitably, inexorably the same.
Perhaps, for a moment, that instant when each of us instinctively believe the news and the possibility, people (people no, not even in this extreme case) have stopped thinking. Perhaps for a moment that is not calculated - not planned - people first glimpsed the hidden beauty of their sight. But somehow that the world is even more unlikely to change its incipient implosion. The beauty remains a privileged few. And everything will proceed in a slow roll, gray and metallic.
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