Voices of Glass

kevinbykevinHe sits.  Not doing anything in particular and in fact particularly doing nothing.

That weird, inexplicable nothing which seems to consume time, simply regurgitating a world of emptiness in it’s place.

As if all the personal loans of purpose and direction have been consolidated into one more manageable loan of nothingness with periodic repayments of yearning.

And yet still the salesmen and saleswomen call, suggesting that he switches from his current plan to one with ‘greater benefits’ or ‘easier control’.

Some call with sincere care and a heartfelt belief that their plan, their world, offers more.  And yet do they really understand, can they understand, that his world is not one which he wants to live in but one he can’t yet escape?

Border Control1But then that’s the thing isn’t it? The difference in worlds.  His world and theirs.

He doesn’t doubt their sincerity, nor even their caring and their love.


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