so little, so long

Written by Cathoel Jorss, published 11 years ago

We say, they have so little, yet they complain so little. They have so much suffering and stress, yet they smile so much. Secretly we think, I think, That’s because they feel things less. Otherwise the difference would rub intolerably. Secretly we must think, the smiles mean they need less: we deserve all this.

Imagine someone living in a long row of tents between two countries. Imagine them imagining a mansion, overspilling with one unhappy person who is home alone, with the maid, the cleaner, can’t count it all, a lottery winner to whom a lot means but a little. Imagine that lonely pioneer of loneliness is on the moon, left behind, shut out of the endlessly imagined Gatsby parties, a liner of communion which steams by while they are on their fur-lined raft. Once again they go to the fridge, open the two doors on the rows of shoes, can’t count and don’t count, roaming their overfilled unfulfilled life like a coin in a bloated cow’s belly. Or so we might imagine.

Isn’t it amazing how bright the children smile? They have a sack filled with rags and are kicking it. Children are easy to love, like foetuses. The first tenet in an advice column “how to tell if your children are spoilt” was: do they find it difficult to enjoy themselves? Does nothing seem to make them happy?