Quiet desperation

I’ve just been to New York and was lucky enough to get whisked through a private security channel at Heathrow. This was obviously so that I didn’t get caught up with the chaos elsewhere in the airport. I presume that somewhere in the airport – probably most airports – are routes that are more discreet.

I think this is to some extent analogous with the world these days. There are people that get whisked and there are people that don’t. There are the wiskees and the whiskers. One group zooms around barely noticing the struggle that’s going on. They don’t see – or choose not to see – the crumbling infrastructure, the queues, the overcrowding, the things that don’t work and the sheer cost of everything.

For these people (the whiskees) it’s a quiet, high-speed, interconnected world where money buys you time and space. For everyone else, life is loud, slow and constantly interrupted by everything from the weather to small incidents of rage.

So the question is, at what point do these small incidents turn into something bigger? At what point do you create a revolutionized economic middle class?

“Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time. 
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines. 
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way. 
The time is gone, the song is over.  
Thought I’d something more to say.”

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