I have observed on occasion an almost prurient interest in destruction, exemplified in part by some people's ability to recite little known facts off the top of their heads about such things as the weapons payload of an FB-111.....or the fact that scenes of graphic violence do little to raise the condemnation or eyebrows of television censors, but full frontal nudity of a loving couple will wind up on the cutting room floor. I think Gershon Legman's "Love and Death" was an astute and brilliant observation of this.

In a cyclical sort of way, it only seems natural to build something - so that it can be torn down. How much more can a so-called international cultural center be "improved" upon before it eventually turns in on itself and implodes like a massive star? It's as if urban cultural centers reach an apex, then start a descent into decay and decadence: sometimes relatively abruptly through earthquake, fire or flood; or through conquest from covetous enemies; sometimes succumbing to the burden of sustaining their own weight, like New York City seems to be experiencing now. The body of history is just such a chronicle of these events.

So at times it seems as if, incorporated within the act of creation, is a grim affirmation that sooner or later "it" all must come to an end, and in the moment when the Eureka! muse strikes, it remains for history to decide whether the legacy it leaves behind prolongs, or hastens, our demise.

Thanking --seed for the mental massage, Neil