“It is necessary that every man have at least somewhere to go. For there are times when one absolutely must go at least somewhere!”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Pandora opened her box of holocausts and all but one flew out, ravaging the world and the minds of men with torments. Like so many, Karura had experienced many of these evils, yet he had escaped many more. As is the way of all who pull themselves from nothingness, Karura had taken to heart the evil beyond all other evils. It was Zeus himself who had ordered Pandora to shut her box, leaving only hope inside. Mankind in its innocence, took this final evil as the greatest good and each held the almost empty box to his heart. Could we not see that Pandora had brought us a box of evils? Did we not understand? This most terrifying, most harrowing evil of all gave rise to all the great religions and is still the source of power that keeps men clinging to futile thoughts of salvation or enlightenment; to making a virtue out of slavery. In inflicting hope upon mankind, cruel Zeus had ensured that, despite constant attrition from the other evils, mankind would continue to strive, continue to live, continue to become. Hope was the necessary evil that gave all other evils their bite. Hope alone had the power to shake a man to his very foundation. Karura had spent three days in Barcelona. He had found life, art, architecture, warmth, companionship, sustenance, passion, and laughter. Pandora's evils had not troubled him, for the gods were still on his side and life had remained unexamined, experienced in the moment. Now, as he sailed towards Sardinia and Corsica, Karura sat once again upon his rock. Tomorrow he would be in Rome where the gods would watch him continue the fight in the Colosseum. He lay on the deck, imagining himself hoping for nothing, merely allowing the rumble of the diesel and the gentle sway of the ship to caress him to sleep. He imagined that he could whisper consoling lies to himself. But the stars still called to Karura and his heart beat its response . . . . . regardless of his will.
(Dancing to Django Reinhardt's 'Minor Swing' on the streets of Barcelona)
