To be certain regarding any human being, whether it is about oneself, one’s child or one’s friend, that one deserves better, but as there simply is no better to be found in this world, one must find some way to make do with what there is. In short, submission –, no, far worse: resignation. I think of those words in Berger that now always keep near to my thoughts: “of this present world which they know so well, they did not expect better.”
Really, is there any image of misery more tragic than that of a lost angel, with wings ripped off and body smeared with gore, trudging forever onwards along a dirt road surrounded by plague ravished lands because the beautiful things he has found behind him are burnt soon after he arrives, forever trying to endure the certainty that he must walk forward towards the horizon that will not be reached in this life to which he has been so cruelly condemned?
If I am often sad, it is because there are far too many people I love I feel fit this image and they are by far the ones I love most and most wish to defend.