To beauty the ruins of idea

April 21st, 2012

The beauty – one enters a multitude of disordered remnants – which is not a non-being of order, but an order made of different paths criss-crossing each other, fighting, mutilitating, mutating – chaos, one could call it, but I, due to personal likings, prefer – anarchy. That unbeing of a reason manifesting itself in piles of concrete blocks, broken bricks, tires, devasteted yards of grass, half-dead half-born trees.
The beauty of ruins.
Hence, a model for perfect beauty is not achieving a goal taken as a singular schematism of organic or artificial fulfilment of a plan, a telos, embodying an idea, but falling from it, descending, caused by sheer power of contingency of multiple other ways, streams (working on it).
Let it all be ruined! – a manifesto slogan for beautilism, if you will.
Yet, completely unideological , happened by itself(s), countering and countered, with no exact pattern to discern to name it. Like pi without a repeating  loop in its decimal expansion.
One leaves, then, by entering and enters by leaving.
Those overhuman, undernatural remnants of highest numbers (but what is height in ruins?) of lives that have not reached any peak, any self-same illumination of a clear idea, an exemplary model.
Beauty beyond goodness.
To ruin the beauty of idea, then.

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