Life seen through the rear window of a moving car

Life seen through the rear window of a moving car is strange. Our asphalt blitzkrieg takes us to distant lands, conquering the dimensions of space and the might of the wind. Even as we do this, we remain alone. A singularity with an infinite event horizon. And maybe that’s how life is supposed to be. A lone meteorite zooming through the vacuum of time.

Everybody else looks small in the horizon. In this cruel and greedy world, that is the law. The further you drive, the faster you go, the smaller everyone else looks to you. We leave our homes, our friends, our values behind and chase the rainbow. Then it becomes so much more easier to miss the dots that used to be parts of us. Much more easier. Much more convenient. To stamp them. To buy them. To brand them. To sell them. To slaughter them.
Them. Us.

Once in a while another vehicle accelerates from their cosmic slumber, overtaking us and our dreams. Nightmares.

Water. Windshield wipers erase our sins.

Eventually it’s only a trip. The journey is more important than the end. Everybody says I’m fine and everyone is going nowhere.
Nowhere.
Now here.

Gone tomorrow.