Desire and Fate
Life imitates dreck. No one today, not even the stubbornest of aesthetes (if there are even a few of them left, hiding out in a gazebo somewhere in Tuscany), could say with the Wilde of “The Decay of Lying” that, “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life.”* But this has more to do with self-lobotomizing of the arts as it does on the decline of …
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