He admitted that both this event and the concept of the Illuminati were often subjects of conspiracy theories due to their secretive nature and elite membership. However, he stressed that this gathering focused on social connections and intellectual exchange rather than orchestrating global events. "It's not what the Illuminati is supposed to be," he said with a wry smile.
I couldn't help but express my disappointment at not seeing more musicians. He reassured me that artists had long been part of the tradition. Mark Twain, for instance, had attended as a writer with a flair for performance. James Taylor had performed there, and Bing Crosby, with his timeless voice, had once been a member. The gathering’s artistic roots were undeniable, even if they now seemed overshadowed by power and prestige.
I pressed him for the name of the gathering. He refused, smiling faintly. “It’s not necessary to know,” he said. “What matters is that it’s not a place for formal policymaking. Its influence lies in the relationships and conversations shared, not in any overt agenda.”
His answer left me dissatisfied. The secrecy, the rituals, the exclusivity—it all felt like pieces of a larger puzzle I couldn’t quite assemble. Yet, for all my unease, I knew one thing: I had seen a glimpse of a world few are privy to, and its power was both intoxicating and unnerving.
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