Picture Hook There’s a picture hook on the wall in my office. The wall jutts out to assert it’s prominence. There is nothing hanging there, only potential. Wasted potential. Given the choice between having something there and not having something there I’d rather have something there, I declare to myself In my head. Once the idea enters your head it changes your perspective, you see the spaces where things could be. I have a car-sized space outside, cracks in the ceiling where polyfiller could be, the flatness and hopelessness of an empty wallet. And empty pockets. That face, the one I face when mirrors happen. It could carry a smile, and we could sit and talk for a while with words that don’t have to be missing. Why fill the room with silence when it could be music and laughter? I’d rather spread love than hate, take responsibility for my future actions than deflect and accept my “fate”… as if fate is a thing… It isn’t. The blank pages we kill trees for, the human lives we cure disease for. The quiet days and weekends away. If it wasn’t for that picture hook I wouldn’t have taken a second look to see if #life needed changing. It does.
What Changed? I used to love travelling on trains. The countryside, the being in motion, the ritual, the clockwork. Never fazed by delays. I now feel like cattle, no escaping the herd. There is a social labotomy and technologies are out of sync. This network has some sort of kink. All the while teased and taunted by the ever fluctuating 3G signal that is sure to cut you off as punishment for trying to do something as simple as finishing your messa