I was reading Wittgenstein's The Storm blowing from Paradise, and I began contemplating the spiral of anguish and insanity we all seem to be living in nowadays, the way in which beauty gives us anxiety, yet we desperately and incessantly look for it, manufacture it, imagine it, promise it, mass-produce it. And a question sprung up in my mind: what would the great artists of the Antiquity think of it? This diptych is one possible answer.