What else would one care about on a perfect spring day with the triumphantly shining and warming sun! Going for a walk! The hovering speckles of pollen of the booming season into the atmosphere, nor the increased risk of the densely planted and flickering germs and viruses and allergens peculiar for the period, would not dissuade from this. I would on my own, reasonably and aware, deliberately! put on a stylish, sporty, velour pair of “clarks” – out and about. Into the maze of the highly-elaborate, state of the art designed gardens. The 10 top ones I admired in the Internet look like real, breathing, live wonders of the modern world. The fusion of straight geometrical shapes in bright lavender + dark-green, the tall quivering columns like some doors towards imaginary palaces, or the vari-coloured Japanese style bright exquisite meadow, the Gothic refined rosetas mysteriously hidden in the overall paradisiacal beauty. The superior, absolute art of design which is not new. Precisely for this reason, namely this fact would constitute an impetus for the plastic alloys, laminated wood and WWW generation to proceed on a meditative enchanting walk in that sort of cobweb. Rather than jiggling on the Disneyland paths, ice-cream in hand, a snap near the human-size Mickeys he and she; a snap from the rollercoaster – we screaming rolling on a dangerous hop; a snap by the wonderer’s little house on a chicken leg the hideous toad by; the routine snap with the hand in the monstrous belching fire dragon’s muzzle, a snap from the top of the Devil’s Eye, or a snap of the sticking out layhead from an Brangelina or Stalone+Pamella theme – we did it! Everything on the International Syndrome Down Day, just as a measure of awareness and precaution, oh! prevention. Just fooling around, not at all deriding or discriminatory. Just like that – for a joyride in the adventure park.
I return to the wonder gardens, namely they do trigger, stimulate reflection, since the medieval times, since chess game was invented as a counter retort of a Turkish pasha to the very popular high society leisure entertainment of cards games. The vain, anxious, hazardous reshuffle of the log of cards over and over again, until exhaustion of forces and means to the indebtedness, dependence, subjection, haggard eyes, feverish, febrile hands grabbing the knob, shakingly filling in the fortune cipher – addiction, perdition.
The metaphor or myth does not prevent one from applying millennia experience accumulated and concentrated into a tiny chip and putting it to good use. Some succeed in doing it rather well. I mean researchers, theoreticians who get out of the laboratories, workshops, studios, libraries, and adapt, fructify their colossal knowledge collected and systematized during years of persistent work. Some due to excellent performance into their domain feel empowered and justified to take a convenient commercial turn towards business or even politics, climbing rapidly the social ladder and accumulating riches. Others would materialize the flow coming from the enormous, romantic eyes of theirs into a book, a reverent gesture of gratitude and adoration an aggregate of talent and experience. Some others would direct their overwhelming know-how, mastership and experience into educating, tutoring, moderating the on the bandwagon crept younger and very-very anemic and fragile mobile phone generation.
On the other side of the gallery – the very agile mobile phone dependent opportunists would, on the contrary hold on to it, to the networked games, to exploiting the flaws and errors, disseminating eventually ones, virusing, contaminating with malicious ware the good functioning of the system, being on life support from the stately well-built, quarrelmongerly belly-out patrons that are building block by brick the wall of the grandiose, odious career of these nullities. Honore de Balzac era courtezanes from their lovenests boudoirs are having a rest against the digital XXI century ones. The modern Cinderellas ride not in pumpkin carts driven by rats, they drive in Mercedes fueled by candy IPs. The flower-children pour in also conceived from well-exploited and tightly checked candy IPs. The dumbest creatures of all. Absolute nothingness without the mobile in hand. Infamous journalists that cannot utter a sentence, that have never in their lives written an article, whatsoever, a recasting of content, they break in and that is a statement in itself – a devastating one, it means the white death for the target offering the scandalous nudity not playfully at all, on duty. Journalism has become the digital era Clu-Clus-Clan a desperate devastating, destructive force exploiting the transparence and making a dark cause out of it. What is worse: almost everyone is a journalist, at least has the pretense of it. Any illiterate laggard would engender a tenebrous site where he/she would become a very peculiar stream producer, and advertizing agent, and a maliciously lousy leaker, an Anonymous sect adherent another Julien Sorel of the deep dark net a reconversion of raw, rough content into gore vice.
I respect professionalism, vocation and dedication. But why would high-pilotage control of gravitation in technologies prevent us from time to time to return to a perfectly green meditative garden that would feed us with a wish to stay and reconsider our own standing and essence and learn to THINK without sneaking, synchronizing with, peering into the OUR-TIME-MACHINE.
God preserve us and protect!