Looking out at the world, I see buildings and cars and people. People milling about, living their lives, doing what they do. They remind me of ants in little colonies, little communities, doing what needs to be done, because it needs to be done.
I’m sure they’re intelligent and cognizant–the ants, I mean. OK, I’m kidding, kind of. The people probably are, too. But do they stop and think about what it’s all for?
I can only speak for myself, and I know that I’m like a glass house, fragile with many rooms and facets, the separating walls of which are fragile and wrought with illusion and confusion.
The popular phrase is being “on the outside looking in”. Even my mobile’s autosuggest understands this and helpfully offers to finish my sentence like a longtime life partner.
That phrase, however, does not quite speak to me. I’m inverted, after all.
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