Illusion makes us question what we perceive to be real, what we might otherwise uncritically accept in the world as given to us. The truth o

The end of the world has been on my mind lately. In the city where I live, Seattle, this summer saw dramatic differences in the climate;...

To what extent are thinkers of an analytic bent justified in dismissing what Adorno might call the mythical residue or substrate in art, in music, in language? What might account for the general discomfort this causes?

It doesn't look like Charles Bronson is playing the harmonica or, indeed, like any of the sounds in the opening scene from Once Upon a Time in the West are actually attached to their visual sources. But this is not for a lack of detail.

Why is desire so insatiable? Why shouldn’t it suffice to hear the words “I love you” spoken as a mere statement of fact?