So then I turned my attention to the two men sitting on the
other side of the aisle. One had a back-sloping forehead, while the other had a
vertical forehead. I decided that human heads come in three varieties: the
Neanderthal, the reptile, and the Neandertile – that’s the middle way and,
unsurprisingly, the predominant one. I considered my own and concluded that I’m
definitely a reptile. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or not, but shrugged
it off as a matter of little import.
As the train entered the outskirts of the city, I looked at
the forest of satellite dishes festooning the walls of some modern houses
running alongside the track. I looked at the four people closest to me who were
all stroking and pressing the screens of smart phones, their ears dripping
cable and their awareness oblivious to their fellow travellers. And I realised
I would soon be walking through a shopping mall. A shopping mall… I began to
have a sense that the crust of characterlessness and the cult of the individual
is growing ever thicker in our modern world, and felt a little sad. What a
strange thing for a loner to feel.
I turned my thoughts to the priestess, and felt even sadder.
The image of the priestess – or, to be more precise, the surface image of the priestess – is somewhat jaded at the
moment. It’s what I was referring to in a recent post.
Still, there was a woman in the shopping mall who looked a
little like an orang-utan. I like orang-utans, so the day was saved.
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