There are bad days here. And then there are worse. For a variety of reasons this one has proven to be one of the worse ones. I was already in a melancholy mood on my way to the market when I flipped on NPR and there was a discussion going on regarding our strange obsession with The End of The World. The study of Eschatology. I found it oddly fascinating, and sadly appropriate for my mood, so I drove straight past the market not wanting to miss the rest of the segment. I drove on aimlessly listening to various beliefs about the End Times. And then the road... just. ended.
I've never lived anywhere that just... ended.
So while they're talking about the End of The World, I'm sitting there staring at it. A barricade, and then miles of fallow fields, as far as the eye could see until they vanished in the haze.
So much about this place seems not just like the End of The World, but the end of the line. Punishment for a failed life. I lie awake at night wondering what I did wrong, how I ended up here. I've tried to look at the glass half full. Bright thoughts about "new beginnings" and "fresh starts". Life/lemonade, all that crap. I just don't have the faith to pull it off.
Bako: Where dreams go to die.
