So whatever eventually happens it wont be quite the way we imagine it might happen. Whether it's dread or joy, anxious anticipation or a blank state of mind you cannot seem to write anything onto, your attitudes and hopes for the your future or the wider world will never be delivered in the ways you might feebly forecast inside your own fuzzy head. Your head is full of lies ... and the occasional good idea.
The life style pay off, the lottery win, the time in hospital, the recipe success, the holiday failure, the emotional resolution, the unexpected accidents, the people you love, other people, agents of disorder and the darker side, worn out media, dumb and unexceptional authority, watery leadership, pointless economic theory (ugh), the degradation of cheese in air tight containers and when exactly is the correct time to give in and throw away a pair of socks worn through at the heel?
That story you tell yourself about how it'll be ... you may get close, appear to hit the target but there are always the fragments and fall out and the feline fur balls that get chucked up in the wee small hours while your dreams cross into other versions of familiarity. Strangely these unscripted moments, with their unreal appearances and outcomes, mostly make life worthwhile.
And all the time some sets of tiny eyes are watching you.
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