Stresses of this life act like waves upon a shore of the body, slapping down the earth, beating the rocks to sand, taking it out to sea, and returning in a still mass of unknown.
Tell me something that is going to always remain true. Tell me about something that I don't have to deal with the change of it all.
Life is compiled of plains, boats and automobiles:
The Plains, rolling, ongoing, reminiscent of home and how simple it now seems.
The Boats cradling passengers from side to side, rocking them eventually to sleep, comforting them in the lapping waters.
The Automobiles taking over the plains, acting as masters of the road, eliminating us from facing life itself, erasing our memory of boats, and injecting in us false esteem for the rest of the world.
Quickly, these inanimate objects have turned into life forces that drive without human consent into a world unknown, unpredictable, unrelenting. Into an abyss best left unspoken.
And who really gives a shit anyway?
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