The revolution being televised is so last century. No one reads newspapers anymore.

Internet activism relies heavily on our discontent and our constant prolifigation of Kafkaesque nightmares for the producers who insist on peddling us any other ketchup brand than Heinz.

Stencil artists, gif makers, even certain selfie takers, have driven our tastes to such a state of collective tastelessness that it is impossible not to say Yes I want to shut down now and go and find a wood of bluebells instead and bring my friends to listen to the dawn chorus with me.

The fact of a choir of angels being in fact wingless is haunting although not entirely true.

There is more to us than meets the eye. A spirit, docile, phlegmatic, or illuminated, and on fire.

Focus on the latter.


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