The Walls

Sometimes it feels good to feel so useless.

Not this time.

There are shimmering, transparent walls in each group of over two. I can see them clearly, like in school. Those who deny the existence of such a thing are the ones most active in maintaining its existence. They won’t listen, they won’t see, they don’t want to know or question or change these beautiful walls rippling between every two persons, like a heat haze on an asphalt road in midday, but much more difficult to see, for they exist not in the stimuli of the eye, but in their interpreter, the mind.

I know you are steadily losing any idea you might have started to have as to what I’m talking about. Tell you what, gather five associates (you can call them friends if you want — I’m not sure what the word means) and talk. If you cannot feel the walls, you are like the rest of the people. Like all the ones in the world who build the rippling walls amongst sunny conversation and never know they are there.

What defines these walls? Well, they are selectively permeable. They let the more common atoms pass and block the more personal, different, unique ones. They slice a conversing group into pretty little islands of being, whence three words make it to the other islands and three hundred rot on the solitary sands. That is their only characteristic, their only definition, their only symptom, their only mark, their only property, their only effect.

Next time you see groups of many, keep an eye out.

1Life.

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