I put you a very beautiful text
Here we are, by Fred Vargas
There we are, there we are. For fifty years that this turmoil has threatened
in the blast furnaces of the carelessness of humanity, we are there. In the wall,
on the edge of the abyss, as only man can do with brilliance, who does not perceive
reality only when it hurts him. Like our good old cicada to whom
we lend our carefree qualities. We sang, danced. When I say
"We" mean a quarter of humanity while the rest were struggling.
We built a better life, we threw our pesticides into the water,
our smoke in the air, we drove three cars, we emptied the
mines, we ate strawberries from the end of the world, we traveled in all
meaning, we lit up the nights, we wore blinking tennis shoes
when we walk, we get fat, we wet the desert, acidified the
rain, created clones, frankly we can say that we had a lot of fun. We have
succeeded downright awesome, very difficult stuff like melting the
pack ice, drag genetically modified critters underground, move
the Gulf Stream, destroying a third of living species, farting the atom,
sink radioactive waste into the ground, neither seen nor known. Frankly we
laughed. Frankly we took advantage. And we would like to continue, as long
it goes without saying that it is funnier to jump on an airplane with tennis shoes
brighter than hoeing potatoes. Certainly.
But here we are. At the Third Revolution. Who is very different
of the first two (the Neolithic Revolution and the Industrial Revolution,
for the record) that we didn't choose it. "We have to do it, the
Third Revolution? Will ask some reluctant and sorrowful minds.
Yes. We have no choice, it has already started, it has not asked us for our
notice. It was Mother Nature who decided, after having kindly left us
playing with it for decades. Mother Nature, exhausted, defiled,
bloodless, we turn off the taps. Oil, gas, uranium, air, water.
His ultimatum is clear and merciless: Save me, or die with me (at
except ants and spiders that will survive us, because very
resistant, and moreover hardly worn on dance). Save me, or die with
me. Obviously, said like that, we understand that we have no choice, we run
illico and, even, if we have time, we apologize, distraught and ashamed. Some, one
bit dreamers, trying to get a deadline, still having fun with growth.
Wasted effort. There is a job, more than humanity has ever had. Clean the
sky, wash the water, clean up the earth, abandon your car, freeze it
nuclear, pick up polar bears, turn off on leaving, keep the peace,
contain greed, find strawberries near your home, don't take the
night to pick them all, leave them with the neighbor, relaunch the sailing navy,
leave the coal where it is -attention, do not be tempted,
leave this coal alone- recover the dung, piss in the fields
(for phosphorus, we have no more, we took everything in the mines, we
still fun). Strive. Thinking, even. And, without wanting to offend
with a term that has fallen into disuse, be united. With the neighbor, with Europe,
with the world. Colossal program than that of the Third Revolution. Not
escape, let's go. It should also be noted that recovering droppings, and
all those who have done it know, is a fundamentally satisfying activity.
That doesn't prevent dancing in the evening, it's not incompatible. AT
provided there is peace, provided we contain the return of
barbarism - another of the great human specialties, its most successful
perhaps. At this price, we will succeed in the Third Revolution. At this price we
will dance, otherwise no doubt, but we will still dance.
Fred Vargas
I do not know if I put it in the right section, Christophe you move it if I was wrong.
Kisses. The blonde
