none of this is me - none of it
here, at the office,
my eyes are no window , my body is no temple,
and though my thoughts seem so dull, my mind is unbelievably alive -
there, in my mind,
i’m a barefooted wanderer someplace none of you have been, none of you have seen, none of you have imagined, none of you could imagine - even in your most surreal, even in your most Kafkaesque, even in your most i’m-naked-in-front-of-the-class-back-in-elementary school, wildest dreams
what do you people dream about? do you dream at all? what did you dream about as children? can a film bring you to tears? do the tears flow because you’re forcefully confronted with beauty you usually refuse to face? or are you always like stones, like you are in this meeting, like you are every time i see you, in the eternal meeting that is your life-
you are my coworker - i am your coworker - these are our parts
the worlds a stage, we are it’s reluctant actors, talentless, in reductionist roles we despise but cannot transcend
the world is one big meeting, the eternal meeting, and my god
you have a firm handshake