"Things ain't what they used to be.."
They always were. And when they went and changed, we wondered what they always were. All along. Along the coasts and plains. The crests of mountains and the lows of valleys that made lakes. We've camped out and trained trails into the wild. We've given names to the places we've seen. We've sounded them out and we've woven them into a familiar fabric. Where there were holes, we stitched seams. We took care of the connections we made between things. We waited for physics. And sometimes, when we thought no one was watching we'd believe in magic. And we'd lean ourselves against the wind. Lend our eyes to the sky. We'd keep our ears to the ground. And wait for physics. To run its course. To give us a sign.
jorges luis borges has a story of a land that was covered with a map, a map so detailed that it was as large as the land itself. the map decayed over the years, some places more than others, and when the empire collapsed, all that was left was the map. yet many interacted with the map, believing it to be reality, while others, interacted with the land, believing that to be reality. perhaps when all intertwined, our alternative realities become one in the same, and perhaps we no longer care what is real or not, but whether we lived, and lived well.
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