Normal

Some people call me odd or weird. This is because I am expressive.

Normal people are just people who don’t trust you enough to open up and reveal themselves around you.

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Concrete

Concrete, four cold, hard walls of concrete, offering shelter and comfort. This is what we need, four walls and a roof. It’s simple really and yet these constructions dominate nearly every aspect of our lives. If we are not scraping together every last penny from our insignificant wage packets to afford one then we are sitting in one which we own, looking around us and thinking. We think of trading up, sizing down, extending, knocking a wall through, we need a utility room, a conservatory and a study to relax in and pursue higher things, things higher than conservatories and utility rooms.

All of this obsession, this pursuit of perfection, this house envy, comes down to one thing, capitalism, capitalism and money, okay two things, but aren’t they ultimately the same? I mean, I expect to be excused for my earlier assertion that a single phenomenon drives this chase of the bigger and better. Although, perhaps it isnt always about bigger meaning better, for example I for one don’t wish the crack in my wall, in the left corner of my room, just above the amusing poster that depicts amusing cow related scenarios, to be bigger nor better. On that thought, can we impress positive attributes onto negative features such as cracks. It doesnt matter in the end, as these dirty white walls close and embrace me.