Futility or Idealism?

We spend our childhoods wrapped in a cocoon of protective warmth, comforted by the same constant sounds, sights, smells and tastes, slowly being subconsciously conditioned to prefer certain things, objects and patterns over others. Then we enter our teenage years and rebel against everything that forged us, in a quest to locate whatever essence it is that makes us quintessentially ourselves. We fight the ties that bind us to the past; we run away, seeking to escape the false conditionings, the empty morals, the mocking elements that once surrounded us with such comfort. And then we grow up, and we spend the rest of our lives striving to find and recreate once more that warmth, those sounds and sights full of nostalgic value. We toil and sweat forevermore for just a piece of the past; for the constant caring patterns that once held so much – a world of naive yet momentous meaning and truth.



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