The blaring, deafening frenzy of the hockey game on the 5 (or 6, or 7) screens finally stops as the game goes between periods, and so the frenetic noise of the game is replace by the blare and pound of popular music. This is the world, a vacuum of sense and the crazed pound and scream for something to distract us from the emptiness. And if the hockey and the music don’t appeal to you, well, there are a thousand other options, some even more benign, many a bare step above insanity and death.
Meanwhile all the fullness and glory of life are undeniable, the reality of a glorious sunrise that illumines a shattered world. Were it not for the warmth and light — let us indulge this metaphor — if it weren’t for the sunlight and its beauty, we would not see the ugliness nor be able to watch the sucking vacuum’s vain distractions. I feel the sunlight’s warmth on my face, even as I feel the cold shadow on my back.
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