The Estate-Agent Office Of The Soul

The raspberries of our dreams lie on the floor of all our hopes, squashed and forgotten. However, there are still small stained footprints left by the small furry animals of our desires using it as a shortcut on their way down to the shops that sell all we once hoped for, each shop, one-by-one, slowly going out of business as the closing down sale of our lives draws ever nearer.

Still, though, you have to laugh.

Don’t you…?

Oh.

Well, you ought to. After all, what else is there apart from the absurdity of existence? There is non-existence, the very Estate-Agent office of the soul. A place beyond where no living being should ever know the wot of. That place where what you can afford you do not want and what you want you cannot afford. A place where even language itself finally loses touch with the world it is meant to describe.

Existence, then, is all we have. Despite it making no sense, having no purpose other than itself, it is what we must cling to, like a politician clinging to the last shred of his credibility as the media stories of his odious mendacity pile higher and higher, threatening to burry him once and for all under the landslide of his repellent existence.

The sheer absurdity of existence must show us that its very absurdity and pointlessness are the very things that create meaning and purpose, leaving a wide-open empty canvas over which we can paint the landscape of our lives.

Oh, of course, you could use that canvas to paint portraits of your heroes, of famous fatuous celebrities. You could paint the perfect landscape of your political illusions. You could - even - waste it completely by drawing the stern gods who cruelly disapprove of such frippery and insist that they alone be the purpose and point of everything, but they are only – in the end - mere manifestations of your own screaming for attention in the emptiness of your own lack of imagination.

However, despite all that, we still have time for a nice cup of tea before we disappear back into the void we sprang from, so, after all, it is not too bad, is it?