Abstractivist Scribblings

Dull but revealing tones of spring ¬†green and grey envelop the town from ground and sky on this mid-March day. New Slaves plays in my foreground, and it seems I have missed the bulk of demonstration. The “secret police” stay harboured at the docks for now. I make my way up a tunnel-like road, walls on each side, towards city hall, and everything seems civil as ever.

Our lady still stands tall, with the Church leering over standing even taller, keeping watch. For how long, you ask? Deep question, bro. It really all depends how long the Common Folk can sustain persistent threats from both sides. It really all depends on how educated the Common Folk are regarding these threats, and what level of incredulity they display towards persuasive tactics put forth by both sides. By the looks of things, some of the Common Folk are quite incredulous of, or opposed to, or angry about, the not-so-persuasive attempts of the side assumed to be benevolent. As gatherings at city halls and other places happen nationwide, it is more than evident that these veiled parliamentary attempts to beef up National Security have been poked with so many holes and let out of their air that they have floated down to the rational human level to die. Hopefully. Libertas supra levamentum.

But what happens when the liberal arm of this machine switches to back an antithetical bill? What then? It seems more questions than answers lay in the collective mind of the Common Folk, as they search for the motive behind a move that appears more at home in the pages of an old con artist story than in legislature. The conservative arm, whom the Common Folk would at this point assume to react in this way, is egregious enough in its propositions, but one of the sects responsible for keeping them in check backs their move, and in turn pulls what can be called a Chickenshit Move. And this Common Folk loses his mind for a minute.

But as he stares down the line full of adjacent steel and concrete, and observes the humble civilians milling about, he finds a home in the innocent confusion in and surrounding him. Not much closer to understanding, but closer still to grasping at the ball of meaning bouncing through time.

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