We fall behind, leaves schedules and calendars. Our date books mark our lives with check marks.
The smell of oil paint is foreign, resting against a canvas and destined for a 1000 years of dust gathering. We love such holographic lives. The blue shadow that passes before a screen, making the atmosphere with angles. Here then is you, and you are nothing, merely an equation written on a wall.
What shape does it take, what notation makes it up? Are you reduced to a phone number?
Those were the days when thing fell apart.
The glue was unbound; people knew nothing useful and lived their lives in frivolity, since serious was boring. These were the people for whom party was family and life was a matter of patience.
Then came dreadful calamities such as pizza and ice cream; these things filled the news and masked people’s memory with sign posts - I was here at such a place and was doing this such a time. Memories becomes images, movies playing on the website behind the eyes.
These were the times of astronomical wonder. Those alive marvelled at their good fortune. A comet with a cycle of 10,000 years, the approach of Mars, it’s nearest position since 60,000 years. Comets and asteroids crashing into Jupiter; all to be taken for granted.
The marvels of the heavens and the universe, competing with reality TV.