The medievals conceived the world as a book written by God, the plot of which is given in God's other book, the Bible. Today, however, the world is plotted by different narratives, either humanly authored (modernism) or authorless (postmodernism). Now the world writes itself; or better, it is writing itself.

The world is all that we know. It is the ground beneath our feet, the sky above our heads, the people with whom it is shared. The world is our parents, siblings and children; our lovers, friends and neighbours. It is the stories we tell and are told; tales of distant times and far places; of terrible deeds and delightful things. It is stories of war and famine, of slavery and despair; but also of resistance and liberation, of peace and joy. It is stories of where we have come from and are going to; and of who ‘we’ are. It is our politics and economics, our science, philosophy and religion. Through the telling of stories the world is what we make it. It is also what makes us.

Who can fight the world? Who can resist its reality, inevitable and recalcitrant? The world is as it is: unchanging and unchangeable. There is no other way. Harsh reality is unavoidable. The world is dominated by master narratives, above all economic and political ones, which dictate what is important, what matters and counts, what is real. Or so it was.