Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in a perfect world?
Imagine, if you will, a snow globe resting on a mantelpiece or a windowsill, in the corner of a quiet sitting room; it must be somewhere unremarkable, a non-descript home on a forgettable street will serve you best. Look inside the snow globe. Picture it in your mind’s eye. Two ornamental figures are standing there, facing the window. They seem comfortable, content; neither one of them ever appears despondent or hopeless.
Some of us are raised in our own private snow globes; where an indiscernible shield is cast around us to protect us from the inadequacies that thrive outside our lovely, little domain.
The world we inhabit is such a bleak place, after all. We all breathe imperfect air, we tread imperfect footsteps
