Day in day out, the sameness is throbbing through the house hold. Yet so many changes have transpired in this past year amongst our standard routines. I see my reflection, and its clear how fast my time is moving and I don't know where to cast my eyes. I see our bubble, a life of absolute privilege. Do we even do it justice. Do we do all we can to share our bubble of privileged air? Or do we hold it close and guard it, scared that it will drift away on a care free breeze or be suddenly popped by unforeseen barbs? Are we just as selfish as all that we hate, or are we just preachers for all that we love?
So I read the news and all I see are dead bodies being found or dead bodies gone missing or children charged with murder or billions worth of drugs being discovered. I see our leaders being mediocre just like me. Why read the news I say to myself. Just because its not happening to me it doesn't mean I shouldn't be aware, and then with this knowledge what should I do, and what could I do… What action should I take. Should I write about it? making it art with my words of storytelling, is that even fair?
And so I sit in front of this screen so detached from much of the world. Deciding that the words I write will bring me to action. Somehow in someway.
It's a way to reach out.