The world I want to exist won’t exist, and nothing I can do will bring it about. I suppose I can make small changes, but the problem is my utter lack of trust in humanity. Even when my faith is reified by some great work of art, I know that it is a fleeting moment more to do with ideals than with reality.
As a friend said to me earlier today, “Thank god for movies, television and literature. If it wasn’t for that and music… I’d have no way to escape from the pain of existence and survival.”
And maybe that, finally, is the defense of art that I have been searching for. It lets me pretend for a moment that the world has structure and grace.