I happen to be in a loop, or is it a loop.
I will call it a red line, a thread of names.
Names of various sources, names of varied origins.
Origins of east, west, north and south, From Egypt to Peru, Japan to Madagascar.
Any culture is inside its own line, thread of existance, which happens to reside inside my neuron glands.
Which comes to fruit when one comes to awerness of writings and archetypes. From Joseph Campbell, to Carl Jung, and to Hegelian dialectics, which is everpresent.
In this loop one finds that things happens to move in circles.
Which is strange when one thinks some individuals believes in linear history, which is neither flaws nor faults, yet in human perceptive is fully posible. yet the knowing of the plausible is sparsly distributed among certain folks. In a world of eccact believs and systems of thoughts, one might also invite the plausible world of Will and Power. Of Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, of doubt and sceptisisme between senses and reason. "I think I saw and smelled something i believed in".
In the end its all either physical of psychological games of perception and gestimation. Of Homeric tales and Darwinian revelations, of Great Expectations or in Animal Farms, In a world which feels both Dickensian, Orwellian; Don Quiote and hes journy with hes mule is one which becomes the salvation, which is satire. Satire, the satyr and Dionysus, becomes our lences, our alchoholic prizme which we see this Apollo, the light and hero. Dionysus alcholic prizme and Apollos light, reveals our fate and hope, which lies in Orion.