||Time is the inexorible form of our destiny. Ever since we have been conscious of our being subject to time, a feeling of voidness has invaded us, which is ultimately the fundament of the world and existence. That is the culmination of misfortune and adversity, an adventure without meaning. Nevertheless an indestructible, insatiable and fatal desire to live pushes us on to fight desperately against death and time. This yearning for eternity and our lucid consciousness of its absurd character augments our suffering, from which we try to flee by escaping into the somnolent indifference of boredom. Yet priveledged moments seem to exist indeed which are worth life-long suffering -those moments in which our consciousness forgets all about our desire to live and accedes to the quietude of the gods. That is the state of contemplation, devoid of all ambition or desire whatsoever, which art and beauty give us. It is in such moments that we experience time in its pure form, which comes before historical memory, -pure time in which temporal succession and subjectiveness itself vanish, and the true ego awakens to the essential world of ideas.