But nothing can be any less complicated than they are anywhere else. I guess the degree of which, and our threshold for complication, is what determines when we’ve had our fill.
Life is what it is. And when it’s not, we pretend to have something in common with an era from the past we know nothing about, with people we never knew, and with ways we imagine them to be. We create fantasy out of past real reality.
Happens all the time but evidence that it uncomplicates things is lacking, I’m sorry to say. Same can be said for utopian ideas. Fantasy out of thin air as opposed to fantasy from past reality, still doesn’t uncomplicate things.
Truth is, things were complicated then too. But not any less complicated than they are anywhere else.
Maybe I’ll tell myself these things more often.