Stepping outside this morning, I see that the world is new. The dew of creation is still on the grass; the air is alive with possibility.
The guy on the corner who vends the newspapers; he’s gone. As is the news, the people in the news, the newspapers themselves and those who read it in cafés, on trains, at breakfast tables and on lavatories across the nation.
I decide to take a walk into town and see who’s left. The answer is soon apparent: I am.
The billboards are empty. All the shops have gone. There’s no-one here to buy or sell anything, because there is no belief that happiness can be found in objects.
The tub thumper on his box trying to convert the heathen to his religion; he’s gone. As are the people he’s trying to convert. As are the chuggers, the hippies, the drop outs, the party members, the materialists, the non-materialists, the businessmen, the crooks, the atheists, the fundamentalists, every confused idiot who ever waved a placard reading “I have a delusion: please share it” and every poor soul who ever thought “I am this” or “I am that”.
Everybody’s gone, along with their points of view. There are no points of view.
There is only what's left: pure, and untainted.
