it’s still my home

by john


i don’t know whether it’s me or something else, or whether it’s the place, or whether it’s a manifestation of my mind. the minute the plane lands phones start beeping and people are impatient. it’s in the air. it’s contagious. whatever it is, it fills my heart with an anxious desire to check my phone, walk faster and be more impatient.

in the long corridors with the mechanical walkways, the same old ads shout back at me like touts outside an airport. buy me, buy me, buy me, they say. here’s one with a bored looking couple standing in a fancy washroom overlooking the city. they are dressed in fashionable clothes. it’s a fucking toilet brand. can shitting be glamorous? apparently so. as long as you wear fancy clothes and your toilet is on the fifty-fifth floor of a building. the world has gone insane.

everyone seems to be walking fast. what is motivating them? they walk as if the fires of hell are on their tails. to be fair, i am infected with the same virus. the eat faster, walk faster, make money faster virus. i feel as if it rots my soul. i run down the corridor proclaiming loudly “i’m walking faster than you, bitches! what are you gonna do now??”

i feel myself slipping back into my old routines. the old vices, like old friends greeting me. “hey, drink me! i’m smoky and sweet and i’ll make you feel relaxed”. “smoke me, i taste like strawberries and old tea leaves”, “eat me, i’ll make you feel good right now.”. my coping mechanisms aren’t very good. everything in moderation, including moderation (oscar wilde).

neon globes fly past my eyes leaving fluorescent trails on my tired retinas. the manmade stars of our city glint in the distance. the train transits through the city docks, the soul of our city. the metal cranes stand guard silently.

i haven’t changed much. but i am grateful for new perspectives. we are materially rich, very much so. it’s now time to be spiritually rich too.