In a forgotten pub, a Gen Z and a Millennial sat at the bar side by side on bar stools. The Gen Z’s bar stool squeaked every time he moved; the one the Millennial sat on didn’t. There was no electricity, but the night sky was clear, stars shone, and the moon was full, so, although minimal, enough moonlight entered the pub through the broken window behind them. The bartender was a skeleton wrapped in spider webs, but he still served them drinks somehow. The Gen Z was having his fifth Cognac and Coke, but the Millennial’s first pint of beer remained untouched.

“I was born to be an artist,” the Gen Z said. “But now it looks like art died before my time.”

“Don’t take it too hard,” the Millennial said, smiling. “Art died before my time, too. Much before my time, in fact. And it’s not just art that died. They also said that God is dead, philosophy is dead, and they even claimed that love is dead.”

“So, you’re saying that, basically, everything that once made us human is either dead or dying.”

“Unfortunately.”

“But who killed art? Who killed God? Who killed philosophy? Who killed love?”

“You want me to give you the names of the murderers, but I can only give you the names of those who wrote the obituaries. I’ll name them: Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, for instance, announced the death of art; Friedrich Nietzsche announced the death of God; Stephen Hawking announced the death of philosophy; Byung-Chul Han announced the death of love. And I’m sure there are others who made the same or similar announcements. Journalists outnumber newsworthy events. But does it really matter who found the corpses? I have a feeling you don’t really care. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You’re right. I don’t care,” the Gen Z said. “What I want to know is the cause of death of art. What killed it? Can’t you tell me, please, who killed it?”

“Hm, well, the answer is more depressing than art’s funeral,” said the Millennial. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Then, let me tell it to you as it is. There are no murderers. No killers except time. After a long battle with history and technological progress, art passed away in her sleep of natural causes.”

The Gen Z let out a long sigh and said, “If what you are saying is true, then how come there’s still so much art, religion, philosophy, and love in the world?”

“Ah! That’s an excellent question,” the Millennial said. “But it’s the wrong question.”

“What?” the Gen Z was surprised. “Why?”

“I really wish I could spend more time with you in this forgotten place,” the Millennial suddenly rose from his place. “You may be onto something here, so I encourage you to keep looking. But I must now disappear.”

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This piece was first published on my Substack on July 6, 2026.