LONDON — There is a marvelous painting by Brueghel in the Brussels art gallery. British poet W.H. Auden was sufficiently impressed to write a poem about it: Icarus, his wings melted, is plunging to a watery grave. But the world goes on. Peasants continue with their lives, plowing their fields. They show no interest in the dramatic fall.
Real life often seems simply to tick on like that, regardless of headline news and momentous events. So U.S. President George W. Bush will go back to Crawford, Texas, at the end of the year. Will anyone notice? Does anyone care anymore?
His wings scorched from Iraq to Guantanamo. Bush already seems to be yesterday's story; his minders carefully steer audiences into the front rows at public events, lest the absence of interest in what he is doing and saying becomes too obvious.