Surreal

…is when you have the tumult of The Moody Blues’ ‘Nights in White Satin’ pouring into your ears and taking you away on an earthflight across colder, danker worlds, where white curtains billow about in icy winds, lovers die of solitude, wars find no clean ends, virginal ghosts float above Macondo-like places, little boys run around backyards in slow motion, little girls chase them with cloths-line clippers and juice-boxes, expecting mothers stand at the gate at twilight waiting for men who will never come back, queens skate across iced-over lakes, their slaves running after them with their trail in their hands….

…and you open your eyes at the end of a gorgeously done refrain and see an entire office and its minions spread out in front of you, typing away ferociously and glaring at their screens. Normal life.

…Sigh. We’re back to this again.  

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