Generation Kill
Finally, I have reached the top of the ferris wheel called life. My seat is still. I’m leaning back and I’m enjoying the view. The landscape below looks like children’s playground. I can tell from far away that it’s a very detailed imitation of reality, the only difference is the smaller size. I can see the trees of the park, the serpentine river beside, the small houses with windows and the tiny people around. Matchbox-sized cars are moving continuously on the multi-laned motorways. If I force my eyes, I can also make out the contours of the fire station my nephew received for his third birthday last year.
The world seems to be so small, quiet and remote that I almost like it. To tell the truth, what I like is my state: far from the daily routines and close to the sun. On the top of the ferris wheel I always feel that I’m at the right place. A place where the natural state of being gives sense to everything. A place where the dark wings of the elaborate plans are melting in the dazzling sunshine.
These moments are short. As soon as I wish it lasted a bit longer, as soon as I wish anything at all, the seat of the ferris wheel swings into motion unawares. The falling is fast, reckless and inevitable. From view of ground zero the proportions change: I’m becoming a tiny part of the landscape. The environment is embracing me and I’m suffocating of its closeness.
There is nothing I could do against the rules of attraction. I have done these circles many times before and I learnt it very well. I’m also aware that each time it seems to be a different adventure, but actually it’s always the same story I have to play on the playground of my life.
I feel that my seat is about to move again. I’m full of hope and expectations and I know the consequences. I’m ready for another crashlanding, too. But this time I’m going to hold my head high, because I see the flashing letters above the exit of my emotional labyrinth from far away, which say: Observe everything, admire nothing.
The world seems to be so small, quiet and remote that I almost like it. To tell the truth, what I like is my state: far from the daily routines and close to the sun. On the top of the ferris wheel I always feel that I’m at the right place. A place where the natural state of being gives sense to everything. A place where the dark wings of the elaborate plans are melting in the dazzling sunshine.
These moments are short. As soon as I wish it lasted a bit longer, as soon as I wish anything at all, the seat of the ferris wheel swings into motion unawares. The falling is fast, reckless and inevitable. From view of ground zero the proportions change: I’m becoming a tiny part of the landscape. The environment is embracing me and I’m suffocating of its closeness.
There is nothing I could do against the rules of attraction. I have done these circles many times before and I learnt it very well. I’m also aware that each time it seems to be a different adventure, but actually it’s always the same story I have to play on the playground of my life.
I feel that my seat is about to move again. I’m full of hope and expectations and I know the consequences. I’m ready for another crashlanding, too. But this time I’m going to hold my head high, because I see the flashing letters above the exit of my emotional labyrinth from far away, which say: Observe everything, admire nothing.
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