23:46. Fourth glass of lime soda and scotch. Five cigarettes left on the packet. Oasis on repeat.
Twenty-years. I haven't done anything yet. I am back in the very same spot: multiple crossroads.
My destination? Fuck all. Wait. I think I do. But then it looks as if I have to take the messy route. In this point of view it looks like a massive shruberry and beyond that is a probably a dirt road where it rains at the height of a sunny afternoon and it is barren. No sign of life, just dread and more dread. The rest of my choices to choose from are well-paved roads.
God sure has a different view of things. He can see all these crossroads from end to end and it probably looks like a pile of pasta in a bowl or perhaps a pattern from a piece of clothing.
Views change. It depends on where you are really. You can locate things straight out from a map but you can't do it precisely whilst walking and running scouting every avenue, block, turning points and streets. For God, it looks like you're a mouse running around in a labyrinth.
There is a reason why we don't have our eyes at the back of our heads or our heads capable of looking straight at our backs. We are designed to look forward and do things looking forward. Our backs on the other hand is just solid. It doesn't have enough features unlike our chests where we have belly buttons and nipples. Physically speaking when you hit someone's back a person can most likely develop some sort of pain tolerance. And yet if you hit it hard enough, it can lead to a person's demise.
We are designed to not look and stay focused on our pasts but rather look forward and be well-equipped for the unknown.
What have I got myself into anyway?
00:04. Fourth glass of lime soda and scotch. Five cigarettes left in the packet.
344 words.
The music stops.
