“So if art cannot contain or describe this event, and if for now the suffering is too keen to be alleviated by parable … if stories are for the moment not as critically needed, as courage, as medicine, as blood, as bacon, they can at least revert to this social function. As time goes on, this will all pass away into memory, into a story with a beginning and a middle and finally an end. And that transition from the real into fable will bring its own kind of comfort and pain. Now, though, we may gather and distract one another, take comfort in our proximity, and know that we are, at this moment, safe. Not many of my ideas seem bright anymore, and I am not a teacher. I am only humbled: to be here, to be alive.”
Source mcsweeneys.net
