Renaissance

They asked me to become a set builder. A

lovely job, they say. You receive a steady

income. In addition, you get the freedom

to arrange the work in your own way. You

can bring your own sandwiches for lunch.

I like that. Loaf with gingerbread cookies.

Think about it. How difficult can it be? You

paint the sun in moderate yellow. The sky

will be covered in deliberately blue. All

people will be provided with a respectable

smile. God is depicted with a Zappa beard.

Eventually, you don't want to do anything

else, they whisper in my ear. Still, I doubt. 

Set builder. It's not my dream. But must

a man at someday not choose for a better

life? These possible choices. These dear

directions. This clinging to manifest ideas.

Noticeable. Like some whales desperately

throw themselves on godforsaken beaches.