The West is finished, its culture dead. What is left is unattractive, even horrifying. There is no heart, no compassion, and no creativity.
It was the first time in many years that I had missed my column, my essays, for several weeks.
I was shocked by the state in which I found the United States.
I couldn’t breath. I lost the ability to write. I felt anger building inside me. The anger was suffocating, strangling me. It was unhealthy anger, mixed with frustration! It was not that sacred anger one feels when going to a battle against great evil. It was also somehow petty, indescribable, and pathetic. It was breaking me, humiliating me.
I hated the fights I had to fight here.
I tried to see the reality that was surrounding me with different eyes but wherever I looked I saw only a dysfunctional, sad, collapsing country and culture.
This visit broke me. It exhausted me. It thoroughly depressed me.
Plus there is that issue of a mushroom cloud right outside our living room window to worry about.