Where are they going? From where do they come? What are they thinking about at that moment? Are they happy, upset, in love, hateful? I've always asked myself this questions when I roam the streets taking photographs of humans. Do they suffer? Are they at peace with their condition? The beauty of their lives, our lives, struggling to reach mundane goals.
It does occur to me, from time to time, that I am living a sterile life. No higher purpose whatsoever. That should put me in the same barrel with Diogenes. Why bother, one may ask? Why struggle? The end result, given a long enough time scale, is the same. Exitus, rigor mortis, oblivion. You make some money, you spend some money. You have a family, you lose a family. You get a plasma TV, now you want a bigger, LED TV. You buy some food, you throw away some food. Why the fuck you should bother, you tell me. Has been. It all become has been. And in the meantime, we get the diurnal reveries of a "what-if-zone". What if I would have done something different. Maybe few steps to the left. Maybe not walk the line, like the king, Johnny Cash, said.
Funny thing with carpe diem followers is that they are the most unhappy. Take joy in the moment, now, here. That's what they say. Because you are too afraid to think in perspective. Because you are too much of a coward to memento mori. To just fucking stop and realize the cold, hard, truth: you are a lonely creature in an indifferent Universe, a small biological misshape of some random chemicals met by chance. Genghis Khan led a massacre so big it shaped the very fabric of humankind. Well, I don't give a fuck about him, and certainly not the star factory in the supernebula belonging dwarf galaxy NGC 5253. The stars don't give a fuck about a tiny dot of mud that happened to BE, at some point in time.
I realize some may see this as a pre-adolescent rant about existence. If only this would have been true. I would take comfort in it. But it isn't.
Here, take a look. I know, yep, another picture of a nebula. Thing is I just get off the phone with an angry production manager telling me that the ERP is not working in the workshop. Do I give a fuck? No, not while looking at this. Not when I know I am about to be engulfed in the everlasting expansion of the Universe. That leads to an oxymoron: imagine that you are dead, and live each day!
Source of this beauty is here.
