Creation

The men, they make things.  They spend their time making things.  You are judged by what you make.  The more thoughtful your construction, the more careful your construction, the better you will be thought of.  If you don't make anything, you won't be regarded at all.  If you, without making anything, despite your great sense of humour, and your philosophical insights, if you should address one of these men, you will be snubbed.  Where is your construction?  They will ask.  No, they won't even ask that.  They will treat you curtly.  They would like to believe that you don't exist at all.  Our purpose, they believe, is to create... like god.  We were made in his likeness.  We should create like him.

Manuel, he hasn't created anything.  He doesn't own scissors, he is very poor.  He can't buy paper.  His family uses old paper to wipe their arses.  What's he gonna make?  He can pile rocks up together.  He can draw in the sand with a stick, and that would be fine.  He is man, the creator.  That would be fine.  That's how it began, we used the tools at our disposal to create.  We try creating our dreams or our thoughts or visions.  A vision is so subtle, when we try bringing into being, it loses everything we thought made it special, but by bringing it into being, it becomes real.  It's no longer a vision or a dream.  Even those marks in the sand are at least something.  A grasp at infinity.