Sometimes,more often than not,I feel more close to the other-wordlyness than to the mundial mediocrety-ness.
Or as Jean Paul Sartre eloquently expresses it in Nausea.
”How far away from them I feel up on this hill. It seems to me they belong to another species. They come out of their offices after the day’s work, they look at the house and the squares with a satisfied expression ,they think it’s their town. A ‘good, solid town’. They aren’t afraid ,they feel at home. They have never seen anything ,but the tamed water which runs out of the tabs ,the light which pours from the bulbs when they turn the switch ,the half-bred bastard trees which are held up with crutches .They are given proof, 100 times a day , that everything is done mechanically ,that the word obeys fixed, unchangeable laws. Bodies released in vacuum all fall at the same speed, the municipal park is closed every day at 4 p.m. in winter 6 p.m. in summer ,lead melts at 335*C ,the last tram leaves Town Hall at 11.05 p.m .They are peacable, a little morose ,they think about Tomorrow ,in other words, simply about another Today; towns have only one day at their disposal which comes back exactly the same every morning.They barely tidy it up a little on Sundays. The Idiots .It horrifies me to think that I am going to see their thick ,self-satisfied faces again. They make laws, they write Populist novels ,they get married, they commit the supreme folly of having children. And meanwhile, the vast Nature has slipped into their town, it has infiltrated everywhere ,into their house, into their offices ,into themselves It doesn’t move ,it lies low ,and they are right inside it ,they breathe it, and they don’t see it…I know it’s submissiveness is laziness, I know that it has no laws, that what they consider it’s constancy doesn’t exist .It has nothing but habits and it may change those tomorrow.”