Watching humanity

There is a Europe which, despite it negative sides, complementing its negative sides, its aggression and its subjection, I can love, with all the force of my perverse logic. It is a Europe I unify into a concept, by knowing that Rembrandt looked at Caravaggio and thinking them both the makers-of-amazing-paintings-so-full-of-feeling-and-humanity. I do not love humanity, but I love watching it.