The search for the meaning of life progresses in the biography of each person. At the same time, outside, on the road, relativism grows mercilessly fat. Truth does not exist. The good is subjective. Beauty is discretionary. And that's it. A bomb in the foundation. A cigar. And thousands of dissatisfactions crystallized in inner tension, hollow dialectics, depressions, giggles, loneliness, lies, evil, ugliness.
Relativism is a fig leaf to the thirst for happiness that is shipwrecked by man's weakness to conquer truths like fists. It is an adolescently mature doubt that avoids any compromise to justify the emptiness.
Relativism is a disease of reason afflicted with affectionism that prevents the will from choosing the right -and difficult- path of conscience.
Relativism is a monster that comes to me in anger, postponing the romanticism of life to an existential pessimism full of unanswered questions by its own will and by the insistence of others.
From absolutist relativism is born the motto of societies united only by the virtuality of networks: I do whatever I want, I think whatever I want, I send you wherever I want. Get lost. I don't care about you.
Relativism was a weapon against dogma and has become a mine against principles. And now the suffocatingly correct thing to do is to choose between being a relativist, or being medieval, fundamentalist, apostolic and Roman...
The post-truth that fills our mouths is the daughter of relativism. Now she is older, she is playful and blasé, and she has lowered her skirt to show us her flesh. And that flesh expresses its essence: lies.
The false social dialogue is another legitimate son, a lover of posturing, unbridled and loquacious, who talks without listening. Only shameless relativism is capable of selling iron confrontation as tolerant dialogue.
Simple authenticity is a child of blood. Pava. Dumb. That's me. Don't change. Up with myself. Down with the world.
The exhibitionism of intimacy. Another one. The casquivana daughter who portrays the unbearable lightness of being only bodies.
The family book of relativism is an encyclopedia of contemporary problems that will lose the battle. Hope augurs well. Others prefer to think that this family Monster is the mambo queen. OK. It's never too late to run away from Neverland.
Journalist
