Il teatro del Mondo e le sue maschere: gli schiavi, gli eroi, la bestia e il Sovrano

If fiction has always been a structural element of the political power, it’s only in the globalized world that it exercises its most performative power, capable of modifying reality, but also of creating truth and value. In which "world" do we then live together? And what is really common? In the absence of an absolute idea of Good which can give order from outside to the chaotic universe of appearance, the current slave/philosopher is called to heroically return inside the cave, seeking in it what is worthy, trying to make the desert bloom. Is it an ironic mask, an Im-possible Event? Among the beasts and sovereigns of our time, only the symbolic fiction will perhaps be able to respond responsibly to the paradox of a lost world, bringing salvation to it. Carrying it on my shoulders, as if I were Atlas, carrying it on my lap, as if I were a mother, proclaiming checkmate, as if I were the Queen.