Modern medicine made unprecedented progress. Brand new illnesses poised for the anticipated pounce, some had mutated to life on their own accord, others were developed for tactical purposes, but quite a few cued among them were well-tried old syndromes that had hardly been considered illnesses in their own right. One of these was Mental Immune Deficiency, formerly referred to as love.
For Eastern Europe is, despite all its misery and hopelessness, a radient, inspiring, enspiriting landscape, together with Chernobil if you like – one whose magic is impossible to escape. Repellent as it is in its violent, raw and also absurd internal relations and its immorality, these very same qualities captivate us and make it impossible to leave. This is an ambivalent state, and resolution seems forthcoming only through fantasy, a world of hovering visions.
The most primal principle of life is theatrical: the jellyfish in the fairylike-fatal underworld of the sea, the coconut periwigs in the Gothic fan-towers of palms, the fetid head of an embryo at the end of the umbilical cord, jasmine, horseradish, sicknesses: these are all theatrical, colorful, simulating and subterfuges. Not lies, just masks, mimics. That is what history is too; that is the darkest instinct of life. That and art. The darkest and also the loneliest.
The natural need of childhood is freedom. And today’s children are virtually forced into a cage. The natural need of adulthood is life. And today’s adults are either hardly alive, or live to the detriment of themselves or others, on hidden paths. The natural need of old age is tranquillity. And today’s elderly want freedom and life even on the brink of the grave, for their earlier needs were left unsatisfied.