when i was a kid i used to dread the last week of august. that was the time when you were supposed to prepare for school, stand in line for textbooks, say goodbye to freedom and await the inevitable confinement called school. and it was also the time when boredom would lead my mind to stray into its darkest corners, where issues of death and despair lurked.
i yearn for that boredom now. workaholism has consumed my being and i cannot seem to stop for longer than it takes to catch my breath. and that darn technology is there to help me along – such as now. sitting in the yard of my friend’s ancestral home, in a village miles away from anything that might be called a town – i still have the means to put up this entry.
and in the background i hear geese and wind, someone chopping wood. flies buzz around me, oblivious to my indifference. the hum of the fan on my laptop reminds me that there is something unnatural, non-indigenous in this picture. but it is this piece of tech that provides that small outlet where i can tell the world – PLEASE STOP. to smell the roses.
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