The destruction of the famous Library of Alexandria deprived Humanity of an invaluable legacy. But logic dictates that this knowledge has been replaced and surpassed, thanks to the contributions of thousands of scholars.

The history of human thought is also the history of its constant reconstruction: each loss paves the way for new creation, each void compels us to seek answers where certainties once reigned. Even so, it’s impossible not to feel nostalgia for what we will never know, for the texts, voices, and ideas reduced to ashes.

Because what was lost with that catastrophe and so many others was the singularity of many approaches, the beauty of the written word, the poetry...

Knowledge can be reproduced, but the way someone expressed it, with its nuances and emotion, belongs only to a single moment and to an unrepeatable sensibility. The tragedy of these losses lies not only in the disappearance of the data, but also in the absence of the sensibility that shaped the words.

Humanity's capacity to illuminate beauty seems boundless. Each era, each generation, adds its own voice to the immense chorus of creation.

Today we are witnessing a great deluge: the digital age has multiplied the expressive possibilities and the dissemination of art. But such abundance can also be confusing; we need guides, critical perspectives to accommodate us, to separate the wheat from the chaff. And surprises always await those who are willing and able to search.

Art (and literature as an art form) recreates what we call reality, establishing new realms. It’s another way in which humankind emulates the divine.

To create is to give meaning, to order chaos, to discover beauty even in tragedy. In this act of invention and revelation, human beings engage in dialogue with the eternal, attempt to capture the ineffable, to give form to the invisible.

We will not, of course, be able to encompass all of this offering. Not even a tireless reader or a fervent spectator can presume to grasp the artistic universe.

And yet, the certainty of the lost masterpiece pains us. Next to the ones that are now recognized as classics of antiquity, other valuable creations must have existed, lost in the labyrinth of time. To think about this is to accept the fragility of culture and human memory.

Perhaps this awareness of loss is also a source of motivation. Knowing how much has been lost compels us to care for what we have, to record, preserve, and disseminate the expressions of the human spirit. Every archive, every rescued book, every restoration is a victory against oblivion. The cultural task is not only to create, but also to protect the testimony of what has been created.

We might find solace in the fact that those lost works probably contributed to the joy (or the inspiring unease) of some, of someone, in a distant past. And that is no small thing.

Beauty, when it fulfills its destiny, touches someone, even if only for an instant. Perhaps that is its raison d’etre: to exist in the gaze of another, even if it’s later extinguished.

Ultimately, art doesn't seek eternity, but transcendence. Even if fire has erased irreplaceable pages, the creative impulse remains intact. Each poem, each painting, each new melody is a way to resume that dialogue interrupted by history. And in that gesture, all of humanity continues to rebuild, time and again, its Library of Alexandria.

Translated by Amilkal Labañino / CubaSí Translation Staff