We are living an age marked by the “I have - many things - to do” target, by a deep optimism created by the scientific and technological evolution opening new horizons for human beings who are always more busy in extending life expectation and assuring their own descendance, or simply spinning web relationships, global virtual friendships, by showing their image wisely counterfeited through plastic surgery or simply photo-shopped. Aware the well-being doesn’t provide with happiness, yet people from major developed countries are still to glorify their own image and rapidly forget their own identity. In the common elation marking this new “Renaissance”, where anyone should be allowed to achieve popularity – the only real target to exist – to think is considered totally useless and perhaps a negative value, a place for jinxes and defeatists.This Aperitif Era, where life appears vainly filled by what is unable to provide it with completion, gives me a sense of discomfort that reminds me of Sartre’s description of Nausea. The feeling of tediousness or, more precisely, melancholy coming together with a  unsatisfying satiety testing, leads to an estate of uneasiness and stupefaction, to an apparently senseless sadness where the uncanny leads the human being  to face a hoaxed existence and, there you are, Nausea. Being nearly eighty year since the novel was written, we cannot be surprised that Nausea has been a little forgotten nowadays. Introducing the virus of incoherence in an idea of life that  today, like in the 30s, is built on the coherence and rationality concept, Sartre reveals the bad faith attitude of modern human beings, spotting what needs to be hidden: the pathologic sense of normality. Paper fragments with written sentences from the novel, as if they were casually inserted,  are floating and no one can pick them up nor delete.

 

 “…This morning, at a quarter past eight, as I was leaving the Hôtel Printania to go to the library, I tried to pick up a piece of paper lying on the ground and didn't succeed.  That's all, and it isn't even an event.  Yes, but, to tell the whole truth, it made a profound impression on me: it occurred to me that I was no longer free.”