Red Things

There are these red things everywhere. Some of them are bright and fiery and dramatic and some of them are dark and liquid and morbidly terrifying. Some inspire action towards, others flight. But they're just THINGS, that's the problem. They don't actually DO anything. Some have moving parts. But they don't THINK. Many can COMPUTE. But that's not the same thing. Thinking requires consciousness and the formula for that hasn't been discovered yet.
One zero zero one zero zero one one.
Rattattatt tatt tatt.
Many compute, some even FEEL. These red things. But feelings are deceivers. They inspire violence. Fiery. Dramatic. Morbid. Terrifying.

All these red THINGS.

Everywhere.

One can walk among trees and breathe deeply the pale blue air and forget. Drink the living greenness and peacefully succumb to the dank tenderness of the loving soil as it enfolds and overwhelms each wandering footstep, sweetly whispering, "forget."

Forget.

But there are all these RED THINGS.

EVERYWHERE.

Stubborn and insistent they swarm LIFE and PASSION and calculating foolishness. They laugh like children, apathetic and dangerous in their mindless games. Toy trucks, poppies, gem-faceted droplets, oxidized, licked clean, chewed on and torn, rubbed raw and shameful. Strawberry pulp, clotted pomegranate seeds, candy apple paint glossy on cold, cramped metal, exploding EXPLOSIONS! Blood, lust, life.

They are just THINGS.

And they are EVERYWHERE.



I want sushi.

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