At a certain point in time we can begin to speak of a dynamite civilization (it is no accident that the highest prize for cultural achievements is provided from a dynamite fund): the world is filled with the noise of explosions, diminutive explosions which set in motion myriads of machines, to the explosions which threatens continents. We walk through a panorama of pictures, which, if we have not fallen under its spell, reminds us of a large lunatic asylum - here we see an automobile race, in the course of which a car drives among the spectators like a missile, mowing some dozens of the down; and there, a ”pattern bombing”, by which a squadron of bombers rolls up a city like a carpet, in a few minutes dissolving in smoke a work of art which took a thousand years to complete. A luxury airliner crashes to the ground, wrapping itself in red flames. Crew and passangers - men, women, and children - are charred into mummies within the blazing fuselage. Beauty and radiance, jewels, silk, and diamonds evaporate in the blaze.