Sitting here at the window, I’ve been thinking of how odd it is the way we live. Currently, I look out of a piece of blown glass, some ten plus feet off the ground where trees once stood not so long ago. I look out at vertical containment walls surrounding the designated plots of owned land, some wood, some iron, some painted, some stained – but all barriers. The only living things I see are shoddily manicured trees and shrubs – all of which look like misplaced horrors, especially the naked ones. They stand where we want them to, in lines, once again to designate barriers, although this time not as blatantly as the fences. I see large boxes with slanted roofs atop them. All too big for the number of humans living in them. All nicely organized, all quite strange looking once you look at them for what they are. And the oddest objects catch my eye often when the sun glints off their shiny shells. Several cars are in my view, all black, all glistening, all quite odd. They patiently wait in driveways until they begin their churning of gears, moving us and our possessions at inhumanly high speeds.
And it’s Sunday. So we all sit indoors and hope that time passes slowly today. We drink and we dread tomorrow. And we watch football and hope we end the day happy – because we know we won’t be when we wake in the morning.