The ouroboros is the symbol of eternal return. Graphically depicting a snake biting his tail, its a talisman of self existence, repetition through time and space. The power of this magical depiction relies thought in its concept of not only turning, the cycle, the infinity, but the self damage that in inflicted for no apparent reason. One may question, does the snake not feel the pain? Does it not realize that is eating itself? Or maybe it knows, and intentionally does so, inspired and possibly exalted of this insane reality, the beauty of his contradicting action.
The cycle then, the return, the turning and turning of an existence that digests, that assimilates its very existence in order to… create? Exalt? Recreate? It is not clear. But again what is? It is beautiful to thing that everything is, everything is connected, beautifully moving, existing towards a purpose, towards a mean.
It is beautiful to think that things do not happen just for the sake of accident, and I love to think about it in relation to Florence. Many people completely misinterpret this city, they look at it as if it was an iPhone, or beautiful and expensive car, forgetting that its streets, it buildings, its dome did not come out of the blue, and for a particular choice of destiny, wa suddenly supplied of evyed beauty. But this is not true, while the iPhone, with the sophisticated abuse of technicality goes out of fashion, it breaks and is covered in a veil of temporal, exaggerated admiration, Florence is eternal. This because it didn’t just happen, but indeed it was a deep, profound, connectio of aftermath of genius minds, powerful decision, aphrodisiac decisions. Italy does not have the best wines in the world just because we have the sun and a particular soil, but because its people learned to grow it so, use its instruments and did the best out it. Same with Florence, where in a spark of existence, beauty was achieved; not granted, but rather connected, seeked, fought, wished.
In the history of human thought, there is an age know as Axial Age, were suddenly, in the cyclic beauty of existence, the greatest mind of ancient philosophy were almost contemporaries, such as Socrates, the Jewish prophets, Homer, Confucius, Lau Tsu. Great minds think alike they say, and indeed in this Ouroboros of inspiration, of existence: great minds, though unconnected and spread around the world, came to live in a same, powerful, immensely powerful age.
The Renaissance thus similarly is not just a random explosion of progene ideas, it’s a cycle of knowledge that came to life, came to burst in specific areas, specific temples of beauty and mind because such was the power, the energy, the will to respect the sacrifice of a snake eating painfully its very tail.
Within the minds of the Reinessance, and later the Neo Classical majesticism Florence grew to its aura of splendor and pride within this years, turning and turning indefinitely in a cycle of awareness not by chance, but by a connection of energy, a whisper of wisdom, of infinity.
The Ouroboros with its sacrifice of essence and ripetition thus becomes an eternal return that, in the inevitable, but also inprevedible core time and energy, leaves space for new lives, new minds, new inspirations for the years to come, were the ground has been already laid, the soil fertilized with splendor and hope… never forgetting though the sacrifices that were with pride summoned, and indeed, expected.

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Janos Mark Szakolczai

Irrequieto pellegrino facilmente preda della malinconia, Janos vive in un romanzo di fantascienza ambientato tra Londra, Firenze, Budapest e Cork, che in momenti di lucidità proietta sulla carta confermandogli l’appellativo fuorviante di scrittore. Laureato in filosofia, studia criminologia a Cork, Irlanda e sogna di rinascere tigre. Ha pubblicato romanzi e racconti sia in Italia che all’estero.