When we want to get the heart of things, my dear Rossi, we realise that all of us, some more, some less, are groping in the depths of darkness. When we think, when we speak of metaphysics, of things which go further than the physical, phenomenal, when we exceed certain limits of our cognitive horizons, the solar system, our galaxy, when we venture ourselves into the open universe, even further back than the Big Bang; when we start to speak about quarks, strings, dark matter, light dark matter, wimps, and when we ask ourselves what comes after death, thus overstepping our cognitive horizons, then, my dear friend, all of this talk becomes personal, personal, and nothing but personal. Nobody, not priests, shamans, gurus, gods, scientists, saints, philosophers, magicians, popes, prophets, poets, nobody, not even the King of the Immense, Einstein, nor the King of the Microscopic, Bohr, absolutely nobody knows what they are talking about. Everybody, at this level of thought, is alone, left to believe what they want, because, in these remote places, impenetrable and obscure, thought cannot be anything other than personal. Inter-subjectivity, in these fields of our minds, does not exist. If somebody wanted to formulate a “credo” on the subject of this world, immersed in twilight and a sense of immensity, they should have the humbleness to do it for themselves, because such a “credo” can no longer be seen as a matter of exchange.
Translated from the Italian by Joy Elizabeth Avery. Tel: 015.703954; Email: firstname.lastname@example.org