A New Dwelling

Creatures that fly pack up their meagre possessions and memories, seek new pastures every now and then and venture off into unexplored territories. Never do they desire to linger, for they effortlessly every ounce of the old experience into the new, rejecting any break in the continuity of their sanguine existence. How remote the likelihood of us following suit! For every moment in our stride connects with solid ground; every unintentional caress of the earth an embodied manifestation of our togetherness with the soil. Never can packaged, ephemeral sentiments and memories disassociate themselves with the physicality of our presence. Sing a new tribute to the anima loci! Can there be any remaining doubt to the wistful question of our inability to saunter the skies like sparrows; to traverse the plains like lions; to glide through the oceans like whales, savouring freedom each step of the way? Or must we interrogate every poet, every songwriter, every craftsman and wring their necks demanding an explanation for the excesses of their longing, their hatred for the noble art of forgetting?