New Beginnings

Good evening Winston, all of the silence that fills the spaces in between us. It will always be there. Who´s looking? Where? The Conveyor Belt. Cogs. One after another. Bag. Bag. Bag. My Bag. Time hangs, motionless as my eyes graze the crop. A field of souls, so numb, so empty, consumption their only purpose. How do they conclude their days? What accomplishment satisfies? Is there satisfaction? Ignorance and enlightenment go hand in hand, so close but never enough . Loading machines, pushing buttons, viewing a fraudulent reality through a rectangle on the wall. Nausea again. Just get the bag off the fucking belt. Slowly. You know its heavy. Twelve kilos excluding glass. Brace, tense, no eye contact, your on the verge of discovery. Sense of purpose overwhelms, doubt is lifted, effortlessly I grab the tattered handle, Swinging on gold plated hinges, courage, destiny, love, terror, actualisation of the self all just ten centimetres away.