the sweaty players in the game of life have more fun than the supercilious spectators.

william feather-

the game of life persist. the problems we must solve keep coming at us, whether its clipping our nails, paying our taxes, keeping the dust at bay. the challenges of relationships continue, adjusting our sights for the far and the short game, keeping our health in check, making sure we we dont overindulge in anything. we tow the line of what was before and what will come later. we rinse, wash and repeat in a way that ends up defining our look, our smell, our vocabulary and our settings. we become what we have been doing, so much that you cant tell ones surroundings from the people that had inhabited them. where they start and end is hard to tell.

some days fare better than others. in addition, a proportion of answers are never known. there are parts to this game we never play, and rules we cease to understand. areas that we forget about, wars we hear of but never see, characters that never enter our surroundings. we can stop at any point and make camp or keep venturing on to other lands. for most where we start is enough. the fruit on the plate sufficient. for others, we keep venturing on and in.

in due time a place awaits you. and you will get there. the place in your dreams, where a long rest awaits, where troubles subside. its the end of the game. the moment you quit, turn off the machine and look away you have arrived. till then just one more push, one more morsel of life to absorb. and when you do, all of the winnings will come to you.