Tuesday, February 15, 2011

...where nothing ever happens.

There is a party and everyone is there, and nobody will ever leave.


The band at the party play my favourite songs. Then they play them again. They play them all night long.

And it’s hard to imagine that nothing at all could go on forever, without hope of respite or variation for the exhausted partygoers.

And when the party’s over, it will start again. And it won’t be any different. It’ll be exactly the same.

Once, a man called this Heaven, but as I watch them, desperately making merry, eyes silently pleading, I grow to suspect the opposite…

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