Peter Handke

“But those orange trees were planted,” said Judith. “They’re not nature.” “When the sun shines through and plays in the leaves, I forget that,” said John Ford. “I also forget myself and my existence. Then I wish that nothing would ever change, that the leaves would go on moving forever, that the oranges would never be picked and everything would stay just the way it is.” “Then I suppose you’d like people to go on living as they have always lived?” Judith asked. John Ford gave her a gloomy look. “Yes,” he said. “We would. Up to a century ago the people who thought about progress were the people who had the power to bring it about. Until recently new ideas originated with the powerful; with princes, industrialists, public benefactors. Today the men with power have ceased to be benefactors of mankind; at best they do things that benefit certain individuals. Today all the new ideas come from the poor and powerless. The men with the power to change anything have stopped thinking. So no change is possible.” “Is that what you want?” Judith asked. “No, I don’t want it,” said John Ford. “But that’s what runs through my head when I look down there.”