We’re all refugees.


From somewhere in the stratosphere,  we humans must surely resemble ants. We move with purpose and yet we probably appear to be quite random,  chaotic even.

We labour to improve our world. A world that extends about five metres in all directions around our feet. We know the world is bigger than that, but we don’t really live in that world. We think we do though. We entertain thoughts of global citizenship via our mobile phones or laptops. It usually ends there.

On the way home we stop by the local shop for milk, bread, chocolate … we refuel, remember stuff we never did, watch cute pets on Facebook, like things we will have forgotten in ten minutes, eat, talk, sleep.

Then there are refugees fleeing Syria, kids drowning, ISIS blowing up World Heritage sites, idiots running for president, announcing their intention to run, “Run Forest!”, politicians trashing one another, more shootings in America, shooters running, presidents shooting their mouths off, suppressing the desire to run. Then buying eats, rechocolating, facing something, watching hostile people eat cute pets, fuelling animosity, buying kids, wanting to drown politicians, blowing out birthday candles in the wind while stuffing memories of forgetting to … where is the world now and how? Surf the world wide Web. Connect.

Seeking refuge from the world in, in this… running for the safe place where the world goes by quietly without wanting something from you. Unburdening the weight of the world.
Places to see.
Where in the world do I go when I can go anywhere?
Where do I come from? Or Belong? Stop.
Go back to where you came from.

Where do we come from we asked our parents once when we were very small and meant more than our biological origin I suspect. But our parents, and ourselves since then, always say the ‘when moms and dads ‘ thing because we’re not really sure. I mean being on this 110 000kph planet in what? In space, cyber, empty, infinite vastness of whatever then we die but before that we get the stuffing knocked out of us while dreaming of a better life somewhere else and there’s no such thing actually. So, this kid asks me where I come from and I don’t even know where I’m going because soon… So I say there is this egg and sperm and, just then, or maybe it’s 20 years later, who knows? I. I see these thousands of people running away, they’re walking when I see them, and they’ve been bombed and I know they’re human cos by now I know what humans look like and they’re them, and then there’s this discussion about the land and identity, and I imagine ants fighting over bricks. I don’t know if ants are territorial? Are they? I never saw ants fight. Mind you , I wouldn’t know because they might be fighting and it looks like they’re just carrying stuff. Maybe inside their network of tunnels they have strategies for outdoing other ants and maybe there are some clever ants who can argue how they actually own the planet.

I mean it’s possible. Maybe they do. Maybe after we’re dead our ash and ex bodies become ants and we keep on fighting. It must be important. It’s probably right that everyone just goes back to where they came from. Easier that way. We all do any way.
Don’t step on them ants.

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