HUNGER
It’s so hard to create something from nothing. Mother says I need to talk with you. She says I will find solace. I want to tell you my story, but it won’t do. You want something exciting, something memorable, something that will make you proud of what you have made. But it’s virtually impossible to craft this thing, when everything seems to be a cliché. You know that.They say we are all different, all unique, but you have made us a trillion times over. What do you want from me? “Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem…” Who am I? That’s what I really want to know. That’s what everyone wants to know. Well, I know I’m a boy. At least I think I am. Hah! Only joking. Obviously it’s not that I am confused by, but the stuff underneath all the hubbub: the nitty-gritty. You see, when you strip everything back to its skeleton, cut away at its meat, it all comes down to one simple question: who am I? To explore my confusion, let me conjure up a visual aid. Just last Tuesday I was pondering this question when I thought, if I’m going to find out the answer anywhere, it will be in the big blue encyclopaedia. (Not your book. Haven’t looked at that in a while. Sorry about that.) Anyway, it’s on the middle shelf, fourth from the left. Not the sixth from the left though. That’s my father’s compilation of PILOT – this week’s issue including a free Pioneer 400 quattrocento poster as well as Pat Malone’s latest article: 250,000 – a price worth paying for a decent CAA CEO, whatever that means. No, I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. “…factorem cœli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium…”
21 17
Made with FlippingBook flipbook maker