We shape the world and the world shapes us.
The culture of cultural awards is a culture
on the verge of collapse. The integrity and
excellence of a work—seen by all, seen by
none—is, like peace, always its own reward.
The cold mist of the northern night wind builds
intricate palaces of hoarfrost of the purest
of whites, and the whole of Creatura applauds.
For Creatura lives by the knowledge that, in
but an hour, such fortunate and magnificent
structures shall return to the expectant nothing
out of which they were born. What is sacred is
the cycle. The artifact partakes of this only
insofar its objective manifestation does not
impede the cycle’s primary generative flow.