Dispatches from the Asylum

When one is mostly silent in their ways, they are left with an uncanny ability to observe.

What is to observe? A society mostly lost, heads bent at an angle, staring at a screen where they seem to be looking for something or someone to connect to – maybe other lost souls they have yet to find.

Each day we hope. We hope to find someone to talk with – well, not actually talk with, maybe only someone to exchange thoughts and ideas via the sanitized blandness of texting.

Texting is safe.  You can only use your thumbs so long to “communicate” the mundane before your mind gives way and tells you, “stop with this f**kery”. You give way to finally understanding after text after text after text, that this is all pure shittery.

The joys of life are those shared.  And those joys come in a variety of ways.

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