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Hellfire Chrome's blog: "Chrome"

created on 02/25/2010  |  http://fubar.com/chrome/b329737

The inorganic...

I step outside, away from the inorganic... away from the people and the sounds and the dry stiff air I am surrounded by all to often. I escape into the fresh wind blowing over the city, and every step further into living reality makes me realize how dead my days truly are. I bring life into my little world, with green and colorful foods and music of the heart and conversations with loved ones.... but every bit of that really only insulates me from the clicks and whirrs and lights that drive me nearly mad for 40 hours a week.

So I escape, quicklly at first but then slowing to a saunter as the distance grows between myself and my cage. One long step and I am out in the sun, feeling its warm embrace on my shoulders and shorn head, my collar and my sleeves almost anger me as they block this beautiful warmth from reaching my core....

Hundreds of distractions, nay thousands, spin around me in forms of life and cement and feeding babies.... life is flowing over the streets and on the sidewalks, only some of it self-aware, most of this life flows to-and-fro and may be only escaping its own cage, just as I am. I feel lucky knowing I am one of the heartbeats of this city, this collective teeming with life and, with the right vantage point, sitting on the precpice of the abyss.

Time moves faster when I move, and nearly crawls when I pause to admire another beating heart or something else equally as distracting. Enough moments pass that I come back to attention, I turn around and begin a short trek back to my cage- back to the clicks and whirrs and lights that surround and deafen me with their quiet constance. I shudder as I step into the shade, towards the brass surrounds on the 'gates of man' leading into this stifling place.

I look down, and there in my hand, is a small object, a machine to most but to me nearly a life all its own... it has beenĀ lulling me during my escape with sounds so familiar, sounds from my past.... I pull its little whispering buds out of my ears just as I walk through the door into my own little cage.

Now, again, I am part of the machine.... part of the inorganic.

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