"History staggers down the back alley of time. Broken dreams dig into its feet. Graffiti on the walls reiterates the pledges and pontifications of the epochs. Drunk and delirious, History can do nothing but mumble callow hymns to itself. After all, nobody else is in the alley. In the end, History will pass out at the dead end and choke on its own vomit."
"What happens to us when History dies? Aren't we all the byproducts or effluents of history? Aren't we all intoxicated?"
"We sober up. I mean, you know, uuhhh, haven't the afflictions of the past done enough damage already? Don't you think it is time we start building up from the tabula rasa plateau?"
"The what?"
"A blank state. A place of immense clarity."
"But History has provided us with some invaluable insights. We just can't forget all the love we have poured into architecture, art, familial and sexual relationships, contemplative studies, and music. It would be an unwarranted regression; a fretful climb back into the womb of primitivism."
"You are partly right. I guess I am just saying we need to start analyzing things with a crystalline lens."
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