I see the strain. The looks on the faces of those in the grocery store. The running of the cars in the parking lot with tape holding the windows shut from the cold. There's always the slightly mistrustful and paranoid glance, the look of guilt, of defense, of defeat. Where does one turn to? Our success is now our shame - our isolation, once prized is now our burden as those willing to help have left to save themselves.
Are we a lost society? Are we doomed to be trapped within sticks and brick facades and homeowner's associations? Is the life only a lie? You can see it from here. The past, no longer envisoned in sepia - now the polaroid of fading colors into red hues. The softness in tone, the bent corner, and the faded pen markings on the back. Our past in faux wood grain and car hoods reaching for the horizon beyond the tempered glass. We've been here before. We've stayed in line, flown our flag and burned the fuel.
It is time to change. To look into the face of chaos and say no. I will stand. I will walk. I will be different. We cannot afford any less of ourselves and of our children or of each other.
"Art in the universe? None. Because art is the holding up of a mirror to the universe and there just isn't one big enough." - Paraphrased from Douglas Adams