|3.5 out of 5 stars|
Happiness is an illusion sold to us by TV commercials. Who we are is our dreams but the minutes of our mind, drive us insane, slowly. As if fate could not be more kind and let us dissolve more rapidly, we rather fade into and out of conscious feebleness. We notice the large everyday-ness of life but forget the small, seemingly insignificant details. Today the sun shined from the east and clouds were few. A convict was picked up in El Cajon for a crime we may have all committed in our minds. The breeze was cooler than normal. A tenant painted over graffiti that was carelessly strewn the night before. Apparently this is a usual occurrence, the defamation of the towns we live in and raise our kids, much like the prison systems that raise our youth. Our dreams are little lies that make us feel more significant in what seems to be a world of forgotten nuances. What shall become of the forgotten and the small, when will our recognition stop occurring in our mind and become a large recognition by those around us. The breeze this eve is a North wester and the air is fragrant with saltwater and seaweed. The game is 3 to 2 and the Dow is up. The sun sets as slowly as the breeze blows, tomorrows details don't seem as unnecessary as todays
Until next time.