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Feb 2016
I know that when I am older, I will no longer be able to throw the harsh truth of reality at ones such as my grandchildren.

Too them, I will live till I’m 105. Standing as the essence of immortality that they strive to experience. This of course is a lie. But, I can longer take it upon myself to destroy the dreams and quash the creativity of the young in a world of Grey.  

Walk with me through this verdant street I am going to tell you a story about a strange place...

In this strange place, instead of colour splashing itself against any and every object there only seems to be shades of grey. And in this Grey world, each generation of children receives a red balloon. The red balloon constantly engages the youth with its seemingly magical properties of levitation. But this engagement can only last for so long. Eventually the floating ball of rosa can no longer captivate and mystify. At the crucial point of demystification, the children are deemed “ready” to face the world.

So the children do the only thing left to do to join the rest of society…they let go of that slight bit of that small, rose-colored rubber which, with the help of the wind and its abundant hydrogen molecules floats off to meet the sky.

I am proud to present to you, the saddest moment our society has to offer. The loss of the inner child to the vast machine of the demiurge.

****** of the greatest caliber carried out in the name of growing up and becoming part of "real" world.

But hey,
on the bright-side, the sky gets to play with a balloon

for a few minutes before it throws it back, without magic, without life, and without its marveling child.

So, I beseech you, the reader to forever hold onto that red balloon. Hold on till your knuckles turn white because it’s that tiny, 3 cent, red balloon is the most special item in this infectious process we call Human Society.
POSSIBLE
Written by
POSSIBLE  Neither/My darling, I'm here.
(Neither/My darling, I'm here.)   
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