The old man settled his bill and slipped out of the café, the same way he did at the same time every day. The story is to be expected. Children arise with the dawning of a new day to find answers to questions they didn’t know they were asking. Grown-up people operate with outdated infrastructure, looking for questions to fit the answers they didn’t take the time to recycle. Knowledge and power, cyclical in nature, find their way back to the straight line as the masses scream about death and taxes, death and taxes, death and taxes. They never scream about love. They never tell the poor girl in the first booth of the café to just shut up already. They never tell the old man about the notion of eternity or literally anything that might restore his faith in something besides nothing. Then, we all move collectivist while merging and defining absolute value and trying to refold that road map in a proper way. Trying to knot that bow tie before the wedding march begins to blare through the DJ’s speakers. We draw lines in the sand and none of them are particularly interesting.
15
