No quality is the time we spend trying to get to all the places that probably don’t matter anyway. Places of no quality we have to go to build quality lives for other people.
All that time spent in a metal can, stuck in rows with other metal cans, waiting to move a couple of inches. If we’re lucky. All those rows of metal cans sinking into asphalt and concrete, waiting for a bridge to collapse or an earthquake to send all those cans to the bottom of the ocean.
If we survive the trip to the places that probably don’t matter anyway, we find ourselves shoved into little boxes we call offices, because that sounds better than boxes we call caskets. Or urns. Where our loved ones shove us when we have no more quality to give to anyone anymore. When we’re, you know, inconvenient.
That is when we finally reach the place that matters. The place where we can finally get some rest. Although we’re too dead to appreciate it.
published in Prolific Pulse
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