Emerging from hibernation, we roll from our backs to our sides, fingers tangled in a dream. Perhaps we will drift back to sleep, and the grand slumber will continue?

Thirty years ago, the West celebrated victory over the East, and historian Francis Fukuyama declared the end of history. I vividly remember how the generation of the ’90s celebrated the era of liberal values and self-determination while the Berlin Wall crumbled. Our journey of progress was not supposed to end.

Perhaps some feel the way I do when they rub their eyes, half-asleep, groping around. Our world is different now, and we’ve sleepwalked from decade to decade. Who knows, perhaps historians a hundred years from now will label our carefree era as ‚The Outbreak of the Thirty Years’ Peace‘?

We need a new narrative to better understand ourselves, for we cannot fall asleep again. No one wanted to admit that peace was always the subjunctive of war. And if this poetic grammar rings true, then collectively, we’re now entering the era of the indicative, our new reality.

Tell me, how do you describe our new world?