A badly laid out thought, written in Paris on the 26/12/2013.
While I visited the Catacombs of Paris, I came across something that made me think quite a lot. My question was: “Is the fear of death something that we always carry with us? Even not knowing what it actually means?”
After walking down a few flights of stairs and walking for a few hundred metres through the halls leading to the first stone archway, I had the sight of the first skeletons. A family with a small child, who couldn’t be older than two years of age, walked through the archway with me. Almost instantly, the child started crying and asking to go home. The skeletons were nothing different from what we may see on tv, but what made reality so scary for that child?
Seeing piles and piles of bones, we see ourselves immersed in something that we only see in science books. Is it possible that there is a “genetic” fear to allow entropy to take its course? Is it possible that, even unconsciously, our imminent destiny flooded the heart of that boy?
Too many things to think about. All I know is the pursuit of difficult answers only allows us to come up with ever more difficult questions.