hatred [Theme] Page 6

I once read the hypothesis that the human mind, like peacock feathers, is an extravagant display to attract a partner. All art, literature, Mozart, William Shakespeare, Michelangelo, the Empire or Building is just a complicated marriage ritual. It may not matter that we have achieved so much because of a basic instinct. But of course, peacocks hardly fly, they live in mud, peck insects from dung and comfort themselves with their great beauty. I learned to perceive consciousness as a burden, as a load, and we saved them from it: anxiety, self-hatred, guilt - only machines are free, free here, under my control.