One Day, Perhaps, You Will

A Story Invites Both Writer And Reader Into A Kind Of Superficial Ease: We Want To Slide Along, Pleasingly Entertained, Lost In The Fictional Dream.

All That We Were Has Led Us To Where We Are, But Tells Us Little Of Where We’re Going. Memories Are A Weight You Can Never Shrug Off.

Morality Was Not Relative, They Claimed, Nor Even Existing Solely In The Realm Of Human Condition. No, They Proclaimed Morality Was An Imperative Of All Life, A Natural Law That Was Neither The Brutal Acts Of Beasts Nor The Lofty Ambitions Of Humanity, But Something Other, Something Unassailable

If All We Seek Is An Escape, What Does That Say About The World We Live In? That Village, That City, That Life? We Are Desperate With Our Dreams. What - Oh, What - Does That Say?

For We Are All Bound In Stories, And As The Years Pile Up They Turn To Stone, Layer Upon Layer, Building Our Lives.