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Much as I love a good contrast, I have to admit that I had been listening in blissful rapture when suddenly it hit me - but are you sure you want to hear that birdsong, and can you think of anything more romantic in a place you've paid through the nose for, or not, as the case may be, is largely about territorialism and as such, at best implies a truce for so long as all those involved have something better to occupy them than cut to the chase and gobble one another up? And although we all know that a chiffchaff won't devour a cow, if you have ever been up close and personal with, say, a humble fruit fly and are capable of being enchanted by species of insect, you would still have mixed feelings, assuming that you have cottoned on to the fact that even fish can be mortified. Which makes it impossible for me to dodge the next question: hasn't the time come for mankind to subject its body of thought to a thorough shake-out? Assuming that you could be of demonstrable service to the universe by donating the basic materials making up your bones - the compromise being that you would be allowed to live on, albeit rather floppily -, if I were you I would think long and hard, never mind whether I would eventually go through with it. Would this delay bring any relief? Not at all, for sooner or later the moment comes and goes where more elevated interests than the human measure of temporary survival have to be weighed up, even though I can sympathise with dragging it out as long as this certainty remains lacking. |