I am disturbed by paper boats, the image of carefree kids carefully folding a sheet of paper, making sharp creases, folding the emerging object this way then that to eventually make a thing that is so laughable, so clumsy, so fragile, so useless, so destined for failure.
A paper boat will never serve its intended purpose, will never survive the elements, the roguish storms that life brings, will never return to the safety of any harbor;
Instead it will gradually absorb water then slowly, inevitably sink into cold, darkening, silent depths;
Down, down it will go, unwanted, ugly, relentlessly disintegrating until nothing is left, nothing.
Children and paper boats, the creators and the created,
Ultimately sharing the same destiny.
3 comments:
Never losing the childs sense of wonder and discovery and retaining a wild sense of humour is in my humble opinion the best way to prevent the Man with the sickle giving you an early bath.
I still have a sense of wonder, Monica. I wonder what the bloody hell it's all about!
Cheers.
They are temporary, like sandcastles, like life.
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