An improbable combination
Hope is the last bastion of human endurance. Don't know where I read or heard it. May be a book, may be a movie. It is too good to be an original statement. Ah, cynicism mixed with hope. A strange mixture. An improbable combination. Then again, I think it is one of the gifts of 21st century. When you know too much, to be not cynical. And yet a million years of human evolution sneaks in an ounce of hope. When you discover suddenly that you like peppy Jazz music, and it transports you to light autumn rains outside a pub in New York. The cool yellowish haze of city lights, the hum of life and movement, the gentle titter-patter of reluctant rains, the smoky scents. A sleepy city, fully awake. Imagination that takes you to a place and time you have never known. Then you know there is hope. Why? Because you know things have happened in the past. Things that first came to your imagination. Unlikely things, which came to pass. Defiance of nature, of our petty cynicism. I don't