In fact it's a letter
" Today, I am deeply saddened. I am saddened for my generation, which is devoid of all human substance. Having known only bars, mathematics, and Bugattis as forms of spiritual life, it finds itself today plunged into a strictly conformist existence that has lost all color.
It is easy to miss this. Take the military phenomenon of a hundred years ago. Consider how much effort it took to respond to the spiritual, poetic, or simply human needs of man. Today, we are more dried up than bricks. We smile at these niaiseries, these trivialities. The costumes, flags, songs, music, victories (there are no victories today, only the slow or fast digestion of events) all sound ridiculous to us. Men refuse to be awakened to any spiritual life. They honestly do a kind of assembly-line work. As American youth says, "we honestly accept this thankless job." Propaganda all over the world is struggling in vain.
From Greek tragedy, humanity, in its decadence, has fallen to the theater of Mr. Louis Verneuil (one can hardly go lower). A century of advertising, of the Bedeau system, of totalitarian regimes, and armies without bugles or flags, or masses for the dead. I hate my era with all my might. Man is dying of thirst in it.
Ah, General, there is only one problem in the world.
To give men back a spiritual meaning, spiritual concerns. To rain down on them something that resembles a Gregorian chant. One cannot live on refrigerators, politics, balance sheets, and crossword puzzles. One can no longer live without poetry, color, or love. Just hearing a village song from the 15th century, you can measure the depth of the decline. All that is left is the voice of the propaganda robot (forgive me). Two billion men no longer hear anything but the robot..."
