I remember early on, in the beginning of my search for beauty, on a bleary morning, when I still drank coffee. I found myself staring at the espresso machine, waiting for that divine elixir to pour into my cup. I was convinced this was the day I’d brew the perfect Americano. You know, the kind that transforms your soul and makes you feel like you’ve attained enlightenment with every sip. But as luck would have it, the Americano tasted like a mix of burnt toast and despair.

Last week, I found myself in a heated debate on the nature of goodness. Is it even a thing? On Discord, after other members were discussing ancient history and the significance of Jesus Christ, one participant commented that ancient history — and the Bible at large — were nearly impossible to decipher the true meaning. His point was, essentially, why bother?