When I jettisoned Geography 'O' level in favour of Ancient Greek, a long time ago, my friends said: "You, Alex, are a fool." Recently, in Lanzarote amid the pleasingly extinct volcanoes, I had occasion to think that they were right. As my sons wandered with Jose, our guide, amid the lava floes and curiously moist rock forms, I knew nothing of what was being said. It was, as a bystander, innocent or otherwise, might have observed, Greek (ancient or modern) to me.
But then, as I entered the labyrinth that is Facebook, I remembered the legend of Νάρκισσος (Narcissus). This famed hunter was the son of a river god and a nymph. So far, so prosaic. After all, who isn't the offspring of a river god and a nymph? But poor Narcissus was proud - so proud that, all too aware of his unrelenting beauty, he despised those who loved him.
Nemesis, the god of retribution, didn't warm to this aspect of Narcissus's character. He concocted a plan to punish what he regarded as hubris (ὕβρις), or, in less high falutin terms, excessive pride or arrogance. He lured Narcissus to a pool where he could behold his own glorious image. Transfixed by it, Narcissus fell in love. He couldn't move. He wouldn't eat. He disdained water. All he wanted was the image of himself, immutable.
The rest is myth.
As I left the labyrinth that is Facebook, reflecting on its capacity for infinite torment on all those who enter, it struck me that for every Narcissus, there is a Nemesis.
But then, as I entered the labyrinth that is Facebook, I remembered the legend of Νάρκισσος (Narcissus). This famed hunter was the son of a river god and a nymph. So far, so prosaic. After all, who isn't the offspring of a river god and a nymph? But poor Narcissus was proud - so proud that, all too aware of his unrelenting beauty, he despised those who loved him.
Nemesis, the god of retribution, didn't warm to this aspect of Narcissus's character. He concocted a plan to punish what he regarded as hubris (ὕβρις), or, in less high falutin terms, excessive pride or arrogance. He lured Narcissus to a pool where he could behold his own glorious image. Transfixed by it, Narcissus fell in love. He couldn't move. He wouldn't eat. He disdained water. All he wanted was the image of himself, immutable.
The rest is myth.
As I left the labyrinth that is Facebook, reflecting on its capacity for infinite torment on all those who enter, it struck me that for every Narcissus, there is a Nemesis.
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