"Amid remotest nations caused to rise
Young empire which they carried to the skies."
-----Camoes, The Lusiads, Book I lns 7-8
The West has always been the land of Dream. Past the Pillars
nimble witted fellows broke all bounds, suffered enchantment, braved
great perils and espied paradises. Oceanus ran over an edge or, maybe,
emptied into stars. Elysium or Caina. And little, since then, has changed.
The Gold of the Old World no longer sufficed. The Teijo had been
stripped bare. The souls of Europa once again looked past the Pillars.
A vertiginous desire dizzied Kings. Fear halfheartedly checked their
compulsion. Soon it succumbed to a dream narrowing eyes. Possibility
grasped at the falling Sun. Measure broke measure.
And again, nothing has changed. From the waking nightmare of a
favela in Brazil to the incessant wet dream of consumer culture, the
Perpetual Peace of a Long Island suburb to the Violencia of Colombia,
America remains the Alpha and Omega of Dream. Elysium and Caina.