A fifty mile stretch of tarmac

A taxi; a train; a plane – all following the same road. To nowhere. Like a meandering river, there will be plenty of dead ends and boulders blocking the passageway. It is easy for water, a liquid with the ability to dodge around any security guards standing in its way.

Does it know the wider picture it belongs to; the surrounding particles which rush past, wishing to reach point B before anyone else? Or is it stuck in a protective bubble, happy in solitary confinement. Some may call it ignorance, but how do we know what exists beyond our own senses (not even that is definite, anyway)? We criticise directors when there is a flaw in their narrative, merely dismissing their rebuttals as excuses, ridiculing them left, right and center (hook, line and sinker? Perhaps not). Yet there are so many imperceptible defects in our lives: hallucinations and illusions mean that we believe things are present without any external stimulus. Yet we continue bumbling through our existence, with no hint of anger or contempt, even though our life is like a scratched DVD, or else a malfunctioning robot. Flawed? Definitely.

But then, who would we turn to; who would we chastise? Or is it just proof we are absolutely nothing and that ‘world’ we speak and see so frequently may not even exist?

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Author: Jasmine

Hi, my name's Jasmine, I'm 25 and I live in London. This blog is simply to note down my current thoughts - got any opinions on what I write about (or if you simply want to drop me a line), comment me :)!

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