Eight-carbon molecules in rivers of waste, and the sun in a sack cloth hauls itself up again into the sky. And looks down in disgust at what was…a good idea. These mayfly lives, passing through and piling up, one upon the other as sediments on the basement of this world. Built up in that wake of seconds upon seconds. Relent. Red cushion for a place to sit, amidst rancor. Nihilism for a heart, and reluctance. And crazed mystics still keep pushing shopping carts up hills of abuse...
religion
Phillip K. Dick, and Reality.
"Imagine being sentient but not alive. Seeing and even knowing, but not alive. Just looking out. Recognizing but not being alive. A person can die and still go on. Sometimes what looks out at you from a person's eyes maybe died back in childhood." "The Man in the High Castle" is an interesting book, and if one is a science fiction lover, then this book will keep you on edge for while, stimulate a wondering about "What if?"...
Propaganda and the “Great Narrative” or, “How the future doesn’t need us”
Do you have the time. Are you patient enough to read and take this all in; are you focused enough? Your attention span how far will it go here without ditching what is being said to you for another idea that is crowding your consciousness for your immediate attention. Some ephemeral bullshit of what's important today. The Dutch farmers, or Ukraine and the Nazis. Biden asking what shoes he is supposed to wear today...
don't worry you can change this later 
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