A Narrative
A flock of birds, unable to commit, hovers in a brewing storm. Eventually landing, tired by going nowhere, they rest as the wind blows on. The neighbour's cat eats a unit of their mass, what may have managed to lead them, between the legs of our General Electric harvester robot. The brushed steel chassis betrayed by a small error in its code cast aside into a pile of low priorities as its developers crack on.
The headlights on the ute bring down some of the gold in the sky to the Earth as Leugh leaves the house and rolls up to Od through the avenue. He reaches across the cabin to pull her up and they head off to town, their bodies close on the bench seat.
Between great trees the lights of the town illustrate quiet evenings working on those things that can be taken away from the day-lit world. In the middle of it all a pyramid rests, its grey slopes gently reflecting the tree dappled lights of the street.
Before the lock-down this is the kind of world I pictured as I adventured in my mind, one fraught with various minor issues that come together to facilitate a great catastrophic crescendo that instigates change in a reluctant world, and that narrative goes unchanged now. Rapid international travel, a massive society with its fingers in every cesspit, and few organizations poised to act due to a lack of interest from the ruling class all lead to something which appeared as an event to respond to even for those ignorant of its underlying nature. Where do I fit in this? I see myself as someone who knew beforehand, who would have acted differently, and could prevent future cases that I see ahead of us yet. Unfortunately all of the connections are not made, fewer generalizations abound in the group than are held by many individuals and collectively we blunder forward. I fear when the blunder leads to more than a tap on the nose it may be all over for most of us, even the damage currently sustained is as unacceptable as it appears avoidable, but I have hope.
I think I'll continue the writing anyway, its good fun, and perhaps I will develop some art for it.
The headlights on the ute bring down some of the gold in the sky to the Earth as Leugh leaves the house and rolls up to Od through the avenue. He reaches across the cabin to pull her up and they head off to town, their bodies close on the bench seat.
Between great trees the lights of the town illustrate quiet evenings working on those things that can be taken away from the day-lit world. In the middle of it all a pyramid rests, its grey slopes gently reflecting the tree dappled lights of the street.
Before the lock-down this is the kind of world I pictured as I adventured in my mind, one fraught with various minor issues that come together to facilitate a great catastrophic crescendo that instigates change in a reluctant world, and that narrative goes unchanged now. Rapid international travel, a massive society with its fingers in every cesspit, and few organizations poised to act due to a lack of interest from the ruling class all lead to something which appeared as an event to respond to even for those ignorant of its underlying nature. Where do I fit in this? I see myself as someone who knew beforehand, who would have acted differently, and could prevent future cases that I see ahead of us yet. Unfortunately all of the connections are not made, fewer generalizations abound in the group than are held by many individuals and collectively we blunder forward. I fear when the blunder leads to more than a tap on the nose it may be all over for most of us, even the damage currently sustained is as unacceptable as it appears avoidable, but I have hope.
I think I'll continue the writing anyway, its good fun, and perhaps I will develop some art for it.
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