In London, sat in a coffee house watching the world pass by with no rush to return to my very ordinary life. People; so many, so many cultures, so much credence I wonder who these people are? Within our skins we are but two species whose mechanisms are identical yet clothe the torso and we become an altered ego; someone else; someone we are probably not. Everyone bar two elderly gents looming outside looking in; Im warm, I have a shilling for food and a shilling for a drink; these gents are all but the same as me except our paths veered in opposite direction until now. Yes, Im looking and wondering of life in their shoes; they are, I believe thinking the same of my materialistic world? Swap... yes I could, yes I would. Outside is cold with thinned rain sprinkles settling on their ragged beings. Who are these men? Who am I? Swap... yes I could, yes I would... but not today. Today I must return to my house, the one with a huge mortgage, the place I work day and night to keep. But them... they have so little materialism but so much more than me... so much more than you. They have freedom. An open road without tolls. Who has the best life I am asking.. who?
Posted on: Wed, 26 Mar 2014 17:40:39 +0000
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