Est-ce ainsi que les hommes vivent ?

Joseph interprétant les rêves du Pharaon, par Peter von Cornelius

Am I Joseph the dreamer of dreams, and a tragic Don Quixote? And sometimes Saint Stephen, who while they were stoning him, could see Heaven (or Inferno as it is, because Paradise as in Dante appears to be a bloody boring place, and since boredom is hell to begin with...) opened? Will I suffer yet?

Anyway the fact is that today I've been put among other fellows working in fields other than mine, and once again I've seen confirmed the gap I've so often felt between my own curiosity for things and the lack of any curiosity or interest for different things in other people. While I'm always eager to ask questions so as to learn new things, to open new horizons to me, and to discuss about things remote from me, I'm invariably amazed and painfully disappointed to note that such a tendency is not shared at all by others. Learning new things just for the sake of knowledge ? not their cup of tea (even with people working in a field close to mine, as soon as I would say a word about mine I do positively - or negatively, considering what I'm talking about - see the shutter of their minds being shut down ; their faces tell me that plainly). To open oneself to new horizons ? It is enough of one. To discuss about things not familiar with one ? ohoh...

So, the question is : am I abnormal in that way, or what? Would it be the case, that I would not want such an abnormality to be removed. There was the last of the Mohicans, am I the last of the Humanists? If it is so, then let it be : there is some glory to be the last one of one's moribund specy. But there is also loneliness...

Let me end this note with some Brel

Post blogum : the images used in the first paragraph are not mine, but Hardy's. THE Hardy, who else (to speak as in a fuckin' famous advertising campaign )?