“If you don’t know history, then you don’t know anything. You are a leaf that doesn’t know it is part of a tree.”
Today we, unintentionally, ended up at Hyde Park in London.
Our primary destination was forgotten on the long train ride, so we let the city guide us through its unwinding stories.
Stepping through the mystical park, I entertained my imagination by picturing the past that it once held. I have always adored historical monuments, they have witnessed immeasurable lives, they are human minds stilled in materials.
My reverie-inducing stroll circled around the Albert Monument. Its golden glare penetrated the grey sky, the marble statues faced the horizon from each corner, angels hovered over a golden figure. I went around the monument to see the figure’s face. There in the middle, a sun-soaked man, was sitting comfortably; Albert.
I never did any prior research, I wanted the confusion and the wild guesses to be a part of my traveling experience. So gazing at the immigration of Albert, I allowed the assumptions flood my mind. Was he famous? Maybe a great man, an artist, or a duke. He might have been a noble man, or a tyrant who made his peasants carve him into stones. Later in the day, I did do research about the inspiration of this monument (you can read it here), but a lingering question stuck with me:
This man’s existence whom many other man employed their talent and time to eternalize, was completely alien to me. The only thing that brought me to the knowledge was utter coincidence, and many are still oblivious to his existence. A man, no matter how famous, can only reach a finite number of minds, so is it the radius of the reach or the impact that passes the test of time?
What consoles those of us not in possession of fame or power?
For me, it’s the combination of all the milliseconds electrifying me with love ( for anything), that consoles me.
What consoles you?