My mind is mixed up in a dream world as I read more about the world going to pot. For example when the latest serial killer hits the news I imagine the glitter of a red hot volcano going off. How that volcano sears everything in it its path. Once discovered innocent hikers no longer fall prey to it’s deadly path. When another employee imbezzles a million of dollars I see the spark in the eyes of a once emotionally dead employee as he imagines what life could be. What is this world about?
I see myself caught up in the blankets at a swiss hotel near the alps. A laptop waiting for my fingers to come alive with ideas. A place where I don’t feel as pressured. A place where the sparkles aren’t questioning the meaning of life.
How does one stay off the slippery slopes though and ski through the swiss alps? If I found myself in the alps would I also find the hungry who I could have fed? The disenfranchised who I could have accepted? Or just another hill followed by an evening sipping warm soup and eating fresh bread.
In short, is it okay to enjoy life if it’s imperfect? I love to read mystery novels as well as watch NCIS. But I would enjoy life to if it wasn’t so imperfect. If I could find myself to the swiss alps. If I could find something to write that wasn’t confounded by the reality of the human experience.