Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Anne F. Garréta

you and you playing against yourself—are you not your best adversary?—at the ancient and unreasonable game of analysis. And all that, all your interminable dissection of shadows, is still too psychological and naïve. A little cynical and banal splinter pricks you during your mental odysseys, instilling in the Jansenist and contemplative animal the suspicion that the world is nothing but a battlefield splayed with interests, fights, and strategic ruses of ambition and power, inauthentic through and through, authenticity being nothing but the ultimate fiction deployed by the inauthentic to better help you delude yourself, and what you believe to be moral delicacy or an inner and sovereign leaning is only the function (or screen) of your powerlessness to pursue the only truly real things that exist, here and now, that you don’t have the virtue to desire without scruple, for you lack the courage to recognize that there is nothing in this life (the only one we will ever be given) beyond influence, vanity, women, fortune… But is it your fault if you lack faith? If you don’t manage to believe in these objects, if none enchants you? All that you have experienced of them, when you still believed you desired them, never gave you any pleasure. The whole religion of subjectivity (the idolatry of desires, the logic of diversion, the theosophy of rivalries, the art of subjection) seems to you grotesque. All that appears to others solid and pleasurable turns to smoke before your eyes. If it had sufficed to get down on our knees

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