With its lights, its apparent simplifications, its strategies and its predictions, can the contemporary suddenly cease to illuminate like a beacon in the dark night? Yes, it is possible and perhaps not that surprising. The machine of the present, basically vacillating and suspended like everything human and ephemeral, has suddenly ceased to ensure its functioning and what guaranteed security, illusion of duration, stability, has emptied itself of meaning and recognition.

The pandemic has defused and precipitated the precarious agreement that held the spell of permanence in place. But in the end, the history of humanity has always been familiar, cyclically, with more or less conspicuous scourges, proving that feeling safe is an easy chimera for simple minds.

With the difference that the Covid-19 pandemic, like a big blasphemous and omnipresent social network, advertises and overexposes our current being, actors of an obese time that has made modernity its narcissistic mirror. Still incredulous and bewildered, today we wake up in the concrete certainty of having become attackable, vulnerable, controllable by an entity that dominates the defense mechanisms built over the decades and crumbles them in the face of the existence of death, which we tried to hide by pretending did not exist. Death, on the other hand, exists and, although painful, regulates our lives, directs them, induces them to rediscover thoughts, revelations, origin and future.