“I tried to cut through all our hurried centuries, lost in a forest within.Men broke by war emerged in frightful shape—more than human but also less, they were quite aware,the sovereign dead, that time is like a window opening up the sad patterns of never.As one they advanced— Lloyd George Georges ClemenceauAdolph Hitler —through history. But the past does not followso straightforward a path said I (predictably in Italian),and, burning under their masters, they proclaimedthe world a pendulum. It is possible, but this gives riseto the often-heard complaint that repetition is unavoidable. Still time issues into today,little fathers. The years, I believe, can be shaped with one’s hands.The world —its obscure moving fields, Persian tragedies,and countries in peace— I had to inform that council of the lost,remains an instrument, a valve instrument, which, when waning,is perfectly clear in the pit —and, being given to such classical conceptsas freedom and necessity, laboriously continued in the traditional way—I believe I believe.”

− Srikanth Reddy −