Appearances

There is nowhere I would rather be and nothing I would rather be doing than this. I am present for this ocean of pain, this ocean liner of rage, this storm of sudden lightning and rumblings. Occasionally I sally forth into the wide world on some errand or other, and I see that the world shimmers in its autumn dresses of yellow and rust, flame and crimson. Across the deep blue sky wisps of white cloud drift without a concern in the world, and for all that anyone could guess, all seems peaceful and fruitful, worthy of being printed on cards that celebrate the cycles of life and the seasons. I have lost interest in the absurd politics of this nation, absorbed as I am in the difficulty of buttoning a shirt, opening a jar, buttering a piece of toast. Yellow leaves flutter and float like teenagers, unmindful of the treachery that awaits them.