Flight of Fancy

Suppose that there was a type of terrible stupidity that has been knocking around for a long, long time – an ancient and indescribably pernicious form of stupidity that invariably wreaks havoc and misery whenever it is given half a chance to. Let us further suppose that the temptation to embrace this most pestilential form of foolishness is not merely immense, but absolutely overwhelming. Suppose we have no defence against it. Let us suppose – in other words – that we never can refrain from embracing this terrible ancient stupidity. Not ever. Suppose we were addicted to it – how would that be?

 

Suppose, suppose… Just suppose… Just let’s suppose… Let us just suppose that there actually was this type of dreadful highly pernicious stupidity that has been knocking around like a bad dose for such a very long time. For ever, in fact. Since day one. For as long as there have been people for it to feed upon. Let’s say that this is the case and let us also say that every person you could ever meet is guaranteed to be engaged in the odious business of embracing this stupidity for all they’re worth, hugging it tightly to them as if losing it would be the very worst thing in the world! Suppose this is the norm – suppose that’s what we humans are like…

 

So suppose that this really was the way that things are. Suppose this situation that we have just described were to be actually true, without any doubt whatsoever. What a thing that would be! I am sitting here wondering about this scenario and trying to imagine what it would be like if this were the case, and then I find myself growing tired from the effort of all this wondering, all this supposing. Supposing is hard work, I tell myself, and what profit is there in it anyway? What good does it do anyone? What am I going to do with my strange suppositions? Where am I to go with them? I momentarily toy with the idea of telling someone about this flight of fancy of mine, and then decide against it. It probably wouldn’t be worth the effort of trying to explain it. It would be hard going and people don’t care about such things anyway. Besides which, I had to admit that the idea was in itself somewhat preposterous!

 

 

I sit for a while longer on the bench on the promenade. It is sunny, for the first time in many months, but there is  – all the same  – a cold wind blowing in my face. People are walking by briskly, some going one way and the rest going the other – the same as they always do. It’s always the same. Always the same thing. A few people are happy and smiling but most are not – most look serious. Some look positively grim. And why wouldn’t they, I ask myself? Why wouldn’t they look grim? Life can be a grim business – there’s no denying it. Possibly they’re right to be so serious. Quite possibly they have every right to be looking so sombre. Life’s not exactly what you’d call easy, after all…

 

 

 

 

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