what happened to that little boy with the balloon? sidled to his mother, gazing skyward at the red ball, as it danced and darted in the breeze. all his youth showing in the corners of his glowing chestnut eyes. all his wants were melted into memory, so content to watch the world go by when he was there, at that moment. with no money in his pocket, having no understanding of its concept, with no need to own any, and no desire for anything but that string attached to that worthless piece of latex. he seemed to have it all. primed for the world that spun uncontrollably and without his knowledge. the world that churned, and to this day still grumbles within itself- nonstop- creating entropy and chaos, so that those on the surface can live in apathy and lay waste to each other with vitriol and alchemy. subjugating masses consuming that very surface that provides us with sustenance and the provisions necessary for us to create that balloon that shall be lost into the atmosphere, eventually falling as yet another piece of trash.

a temporary distraction for a temporary inhabitant on a temporary plane.


whatever happened to him?..