The song of the notwithstanding

This is like an old website you didn't visit for years, and then one day you discover it's still there, and it's the same, the same feel, perhaps distorted by the years and your own existentialist expeiences, and possibly degraded by your own vital pessimism.
The sudden perspective beheld by the retina can make the mind recapitulate at high speed, nothing wrong with pessimism, or even the existentialist side of self-deprecating anguish, mother of self-understanding, nothing wrong with Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Artaud or Verlaine, or as someone said: "we need to be absolutely modern".
The feeling it's strange, for a moment it seems it's going to defeat time and death, but on the long run, time and death are our definitive realities.
And notwithstanding
and notwithstanding.