A photo is sort of like a portal. It transports you to another time and another place. But thankfully not smells. I would have to delete some of my pictures if they did smells.
What if electricity suddenly stopped working? No cell phones, no internet, no electric stoves, no automobiles. Our modern transportation and distribution system would completely shut down overnight. The supply of virtually every product we consume would shut down. Would you survive in that world?
Question your Reality
Some terrible fate will befall the earth if we don’t warm it up. Like global warming is actually what will save us from the catastrophic asteroid. Global warming will force advances in technology that will ultimately save us from a different fate. If your civic duty was to pollute more, what would you do? What actions could you take right now that would help save the world?
One thing that bugs me is when people go on a rant about something. Like I’m expected to care about what they care about while they are talking. It’s even worse when it’s something I don’t agree with. Like they are expressing a completely invalid way of thinking and all I want to do is tell them that they are wrong. But I just stuff it down because it is pretty much never worth it to pick a fight, especially people who drone on in an endless monologue about stuff. They are particularly not worth the time. Okay, I’m done with my monologue now.
Semblance of a Story
The air exploded from my lungs as the ship vented. An emergency air-lock slammed shut, but the damage was done. My first thought was that I would die in space. My second was that above all, I would not miss Myrta’s casserole. She was an alien after all, and you never knew what she put in that stuff. No air. Hypoxia. That’s something she put in the casserole. No wonder it tasted so good. Need helmet. No, she wouldn’t put a helmet in casserole. That would make it heady. Though it would make it hilarious. I laughed, great heaves of my chest that didn’t seem to make any sound. Casserole was funny because flowers. And oatmeal. Hiss. Air. I gasped, sucking down precious oxygen. I tested my thoughts by imagining eating casserole. I gagged, followed by a flitting fear that I might throw up inside my flight suit. Yup, my thoughts were mine again. Time to get to work so I wouldn’t die in space. Though fixing the ship might be easier than getting the phantom taste of Myrta’s casserole out of my mouth.
Dog Bear Says
Dog Bear says, “If you fall on razor wire, think of it as the closest shave you’ve ever had. And maybe stop trying to break into a prison. That makes no sense.”