The Cat in The Hat

My room-mate is gone north for a few days and I'm in a city where I don't know one person by name and no one knows me. I called a person I know in another town to make sure I was real. Quite a relief when she recognised my voice.

Many people in bigger cities are going down-town to occupy parks and centres to complain about the disparity between the rich and the poor. Let them eat cake, eh? The rich don't understand why people who insist on being poor want to complain, when nobody they know complains about being rich, or whatever. I guess if you complain about your lot in life you must be some kind of nut-bar. Guillotines are so far in the past nobody is scared any-more. People living in mansions are untouchable and have short memories.

Haunting the prairies

So it seems I'm out of the bush and across the great plains again.
Nothing here seems to have changed much at all, but I don't recognise myself any-more. When I look into the rear view mirror I can see the road behind and the small town that I just went through but when I try to look back through time everything has changed so much I lose grip on reality. People are changed by time more than the landscape, which wasn't obvious (to me) until just now. Landscapes or people you are not familiar with can change and it makes no difference but the ones close to you can change a little and cause you to re-examine yourself. Maybe these little changes will make you wonder if what you thought before was ever real. Paradigms shift.