This is a long essay I wrote about the fractured reality we inhabit. It is difficult to say what reality is to some people. Why is this the case? How do people come to be estranged from what is alive to basic observation?
I hope to explore some of the significance of a life lived through the principle of disconnection - of Man from God, of the correspondences of meaning - of the object from its name.
I will mention the Soviet Union, some ideas from Ballard and Gogol, will refer to an example of the anti-realist art of today, and will hope to conclude with a picture of social reality that is better explained and - happily - completely unsustainable.
I have included footnotes at the end, which will be included in part two.
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