Art, love, appreciation, magic: all concepts thrown to the winds of the blustery city streets filtering air through narrow alleyways and corridors. Modern society has escaped from the volatile, and entered the realm of the mundane, wilting the leaves of a blossoming culture. Nothing good lasts forever, nor does it stay for very long. In the brief history of mankind, the cycles of being and creation have become ever shorter to the point where humanity may be entering a downward spiral of the forever ordinary. Where will we be, when will we be? We will be the here and now, and forever of a boring exploration of material value in a world that lacks transcendence. Why is this sad, why is the life we lead today, tomorrow, and without a doubt the very next day? Who is to say that it is sad? Certainly not me, not I, in this pompous state of being I refer to as intelligence. I couldn’t tell the ordinary from the extraordinary if it was clearly labeled, jumping out at me like white text on a black background.
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