We forget how good life can be at its best, and how bad at its worst. Commuter trains loading and unloading passengers… sleepwalkers, shoppers, solicitors, the ambitious and the hopeless, the contented and the wretched… human electrons shuffling through the circuitry of civilization, enacting corporate spreadsheets and other such things. And once again that familiar numbing beat of routine rolling along its familiar tracks. The silver and gold of exuberance lose their shine, and the marble becomes dirty.Īlways and always: soot, casting its pall over glamours and revelries, despoiling your epiphany, sodding up your finest collar. Yet a little later, scarcely an hour gone by, and the ever-falling soot of ordinary life is already covering the whole thing. Why can’t it be like this always? Before I was sleeping now I am awake.” This is so right, on whole different level of right so real, on a whole different level of real. If you have experienced such a moment – experienced the best type of such a moment – then you may have discovered inside it a certain idle but sincere thought: “Heaven, yes! I didn’t realize it could be like this. Have you ever experienced a moment of bliss? On the rapids of inspiration maybe, your mind tracing the shapes of truth and beauty? Or in the pulsing ecstasy of love? Or in a glorious triumph achieved with true friends? Or in a conversation on a vine-overhung terrace one star-appointed night? Or perhaps a melody smuggled itself into your heart, charming it and setting it alight with kaleidoscopic emotions? Or when you prayed, and felt heard? How can I tell you about Utopia and not leave you mystified? With what words could I convey the wonder? My pen, I fear, is as unequal to the task as if I had tried to use it against a charging war elephant.īut maybe you will overlook the weakness of my exposition. We are all dependent on you to make us real. Still others are possible artificial persons that you might one day create. Some of us are possible futures of children that have not yet been delivered. Amongst us are many who are possible futures of your people. I am really writing on behalf of all my contemporaries, and we are addressing ourselves to all of your contemporaries. I am writing to tell you about my life – that you may choose it for yourself. Should this wish come true, then I am not just a possible future, but your actual future: a coming phase of you, like the flower that follows the seed. We have never met, yet we are not strangers. Forgive my writing to you out of the blue. Coined from Ancient Greek οὐ ( ou, “ not, no ” ) + τόπος ( tópos, “ place, region ” ).Greetings, and may this letter find you at peace and in prosperity. Thai: ดินแดนในอุดมคติ ( daen nai oo-dom ká-dtì ), อุตมรัฐ (th) ( ùt-dtà-má-rát ), ยูโทเปีย (th)įrom New Latin Utopia, the name of a fictional island, possessing a seemingly perfect socio-politico-legal system in the book Utopia (1516) by Sir Thomas More.
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