Thursday, 17 June 2010


Bubbles, floating, blown this way, that way, the other way, and within each a person, or persons, for when two bubbles meet the two sometimes become one, merge, and so within the one bubble two people. This bubble could in turn meet and merge with another bubble containing one or more people, and so on till the grandest imaginable bubble is floating around.

Sometimes though, and not all that rarely, two bubbles collide and rather than a merging a bursting, of one or both, and down everyone tumbles - a great mass of limbs, torsos, heads.
Is it better to be in a well-populated bubble that bursts or a less-populated one that bursts or even a solitary one that bursts?
I suppose if you were to fall on someone else – cushioning your fall- you might say it’s better to have been in a well-populated one, but if you were the one doing the cushioning, then you might think otherwise.

But why not in a bubble – solitary or otherwise - that doesn’t burst? They don’t have to burst, do they, these bubbles?
 I’m afraid it’s most likely they do. Admittedly one can’t say with certainty what future lies in store for all current bubbles – floating around happily, contented faces peering out – but there has been a great tradition, a pattern, of bubbles floating and bursting – whether after an unpropitious colliding with some other bubble or object, perhaps sharp, against which it had the misfortune to meet, including of course perhaps the very ground - or simply suddenly and without warning in the midst of the harmless air, bursting, a little splash of liquid, and down go all concerned.

And so - calamity? Well, calamity, yes, perhaps. That is calamity, yes obviously for the bubble, but for any occupants of the bubble, calamity yes perhaps also: if the depth of the fall and nature of the landing are sufficient to induce calamity, or excess of fear during the falling enough likewise; but otherwise - some bruising sustained may be, a sprain, even broken bones, maybe a consequent fear of heights, a resentment towards bubbles and their perilous nature, or, or maybe and, resentment towards causes of bubbles bursting, a yearning for return to habitation within a bubble: all possible symptoms, but on the other hand why not relief or pleasure at release from confinement within the bubble? Is life in a bubble so extraordinary that one should wish to remain confined forever within?

So one such a person, cast from a burst bubble, lands, spends some time immobile in shock, then awareness coalesces, some kind of comprehension of circumstances ensues, he or she raises him or her self gingerly, ponders presence or absence of injuries - in this particular case absence, stretches atrophied limbs a bit, and begins walking, and what comes to suffuse this being but a surprised delight at liberation from the bubble; and so ends all desires for habitation within bubbles, for a while at least.

One could subsequent to departure from bubbles find some grounded souls flinging projectiles at other air-borne bubbles, intending to bring them down too, releasing any who dwell within from confinement, but such activities are far from recommended or even encouraged. From within any imperilled bubbles peer out terrified faces, uncomprehending, irate – and understandably. They might sustain injury from the projectile or the falling. It might be found that they come, even without injury, to be not at all pleased with departure from life within the bubble.

And so it might well be that the projectile flinging was not half as well-intentioned as the flingers might claim - more a case of envy towards those floating inhabitants than any strong reasons of brotherhood and liberation of brothers. Life on the ground, propelled solely by their own limbs, not at all to their liking, they grow bitter, envious, and so the flinging.

But anyway, that’s it; a brief look at life within and without floating, ephemeral bubbles - I confess, a bit late in the day, to not liking the word much.

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