Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

mistakes. After all, if I ever accepted such a notion, I'd have tobelieve in my eternal damnation.What am I to God? Nothing, a murky shadow. My passage onthis earth is too rapid to leave any traces; it counts for nothing inspace or in time. God really doesn't pay any attention to us, so evenif he exists, it's as if he didn't. My form of atheism, however, leadsinevitably to an acceptance of the inexplicable. Mystery is inseparablefrom chance, and our whole universe is a mystery. Since I reject theidea of a divine watchmaker (a notion even more mysterious thanthe mystery it supposedly explains), then I must consent to live ina kind of shadowy confusion. And insofar as no explication, even thesimplest, works for everyone, I've chosen my mystery. At least itkeeps my moral freedom intact.People often ask me about science. Doesn't science, they say,look for ways to clarify the mystery? Perhaps, I reply; but, to behonest, science doesn't interest me much. I find it analytical, pretentious,and superficial-largely because it doesn't address itself todreams, chance, laughter, feelings, or paradox-in other words, allthe things I love the most. As a character in The Milky Way declares:"The fact that science and technology fill me with contempt can'thelp bur force me to believe in God." I'd have to disagree, becauseone can also choose, as I have, simply to live in the mystery.All my life I've been harassed by questions: Why is somethingthis way and not another? How do you account for that? This rageto understand, to fill in the blanks, only makes life more banal. Ifwe could only find the courage to leave our destiny to chance, toaccept the fundamental mystery of our lives, then we might be closerto the sort of happiness that comes with innocence.Fortunately, somewhere between chance and mystery lies imagination,the only thing that protects our freedom, despite the factthat people keep trying to reduce it or kill it off altogether. I supposethat's why Christianity invented the notion of intentional sin. WhenI was younger, my so-called conscience forbade me to entertain certainimages-like fratricide, for instance, or incest. I'd tell myself