Geraniums all grow with the same smug, life look on their face. Disgusting really, seeing greenery so full and free to prosper. Not to say anyone has a great purpose in this life other than to repeat mistakes had when the previous one was a lot like transcribing manuscripts in a dusty cubicle, slaving away to record the historical escapades of a childhood with issues, but I've never met someone who writes as easily or as directly without being indirectly or perfectly without direction when copying events from the past onto the future than a quixotic visionary.
Directly or indirectly, this makes sense to me.

Previously, it seemed easier to find an author or artist with a few tricks, who selected their respective syntax with care and became cognizant of the impact their clarity had on their peers or even their generation, whether that person directed movies, took paint on a canvass or questioned the fabric of society with close analytical theses and postulations.

These artists come once a generation and the look on the face of a manuscript that is done is the same as the one a person might find on a ground breaking web site or design.

Either that, or it's easier nowadays for a cutting edge advance in technology to be recognized as public domain whether or not it initially is/was/will be intended as such.