Freeway

June 20, 2015 § 2 Comments

I set out this morning with a bit of a headache. The cistern in the bathroom has started to leak and a wet trail is snaking across the bathroom floor to the drain. The little rubber washer that until now has held its own and done its work is starting to give up the ghost. Another little job to do that turns my mind to entropy. I live in a tropical climate where the jungle is only over the wall and always trying to get in. The tamarind tree is resisting our attempts to domesticate it and is lifting the decking boards I only readjusted a few months ago around it. The screws are rusting, the paint is peeling, and my skin is losing its elasticity.
A tide of bad news washed around my feet this morning, the water dark and dirty.

When you have a headache these things can get to you. I’m driving into the city on the freeway, taking the goods to market, contemplating these things and wondering how we all cope with it. A few of us don’t. Some of us do terrible things because we don’t,  but the vast and overwhelming majority of us do cope. If we didnt, we would have disappeared as a species long ago. I look across the cityscape as I sit in the jam and see countless construction sites stretching into the murky morning haze of Bangkok. A guy in a crane lifting steel, raising the city out of the mud. I wonder what time he got up this morning and climbed into his tower?
My thoughts drift out a million miles away to a tiny damaged lump of metal sitting on a comet waiting for the sun, and to the men and women who put it there, listening for its ‘good morning’; who put it there in the hope of fathoming out where all this is going and where it all came from.
I dont know… just go home and fix the washer.

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