Whenever I experience a rush of hope about my fellow humans, including my closest neighbors, I cringe soon afterwards. One look at online newspapers is enough for yet another collapse of my spirit. As luck would have it, I just came across an article about recent atrocities in Congo and elsewhere in Africa. In particular, stories about child soldiers shook me to the bone. Mind you, Africans and Europeans are of the same race, and civilization is only skin deep. Skin deep? This is a wild exaggeration, of course. And Motovun is a clear example of it. All the signs of civilization in the hilltown have nothing whatsoever to do with those who inhabit it right now, as witnessed by a bunch of boys playing soccer on the upper square while I am checking the news on my laptop on the hotel terrace. The same is true of Venice. As well as Rome and Athens. Thick and hard as it is, the dead skin is good for nothing but tourism. Returning to child soldiers, they can pop up anywhere in Europe, too. As well as anytime. Pace Hegel, but modern weapons only add to their untoward might. Bereft of wisdom, they can go on and on as long as the equalizing weapons survive. The horror.

To William Golding