It is a time of freedom and fear, of Gaia and of borders, of many paths and the widening of
a universal toll road, emptying country and swelling cities, of the public bought into
privacy and the privacy of the public sold into invisible data banks and knowing
algorithms. It is the time of the warrior's peace and the miser's charity, when the
planting of a seed is an act of conscientious objection.
These are the times when maps fade and direction is lost. Forwards is backwards now, so we glance sideways at the strange lands through which we are all passing, knowing for certain only that our destination has disappeared. We are unready to meet these times, but we proceed nonetheless, adapting as we wander, reshaping the Earth with every tread. Behind us we have left the old times, the standard times, the high times. Welcome to the irregular times. Mother Davis scratches her chin as she ponders,How come they're calling it a cease fire, when the Iraqis are lobbing mortars at us, we're shooting the Iraqis, bombs are going off all over the country, and even the President of Bulgaria is being attacked while in in Iraq? In a cease fire, everyone is supposed to cease firing. So, what does that make this, a slow fire agreement? If this is slow, what are we to expect when the agreement finally crumbles? Some say that cooler heads are prevailing in Iraq. It looks to me like the cooler heads are getting shot off. I wish that cooler heads had prevented this war last year. Remembering that wishing won't make it so, Mother Davis Return to the Irregular Times Main Page
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