Rantglass - because that's how things are.

Cardboard boxes.

They would gravitate towards the limelight as if it were the natural nourishment of the sun, feeding on it with a hunger rivalling that of a bloody vampire’s.

They would not bat even an eyelid when told that the cameras are stealing their very souls, putting paid to their misfortunes from days of yore.

They aim for perfection each and every day, and get all they ever wanted and more. Their hopes may be placed way up high, but some do not have all that far to fall back onto the ground.

And that continues to puzzles me.

Perhaps crossroads and horoscopes are not that different after all; the first leads to many a dozen secret places, but it is the latter that tells of a journey without a destination. For all we know, the results could be simple and bare, with not a minute to spare.

In the meantime, you continue playing the world’s tiniest violin while sucking on a lemon and wondering if pain can indeed last forever.

Details of this entry.Monday, September 16, 2013, filed under Musings.
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