Postcards from outer space.
There are days when it feels like we are hopelessly beyond saving. All signs seem to indicate that we are taking massive steps backwards, with previous attempts becoming undone and set aside forlornly like laundry hung out to dry on rainy days. And boy, does it not just rain: it pours, rushing and washing away sweat, blood, tears, and everything that we had once hold dear.
We know this. We really do. Our senses are not immune to the grim tidings made up of mad mistakes and sad statistics – we see, hear, read and talk of all that is happening around us. But is there really nothing we can do to save the nation, save the world, and save ourselves?
It is times like these when I become increasingly tempted to feel the green of the grass and see the blue of the skies at the other side.