Do you have a passionate TV reporter living with you?
If that’s the case, then you must also experience tormenting routine enquiries about their coverage. At times, you must feel like a tautological parrot, rehashing the same words, confirming that their narrative was stunning. Last December, I committed a dreadful mistake and replied with an utmost sincerity regarding her coverage of London’s development vision because it lacked sufficient images. Although, she managed to explain the London’s long-term development vision, which aims to tackle frequent water flooding by rehousing fifteen million people into 300 tall skyscrapers. Each skyscraper would house at least 50,000 residents and function as individual cities, connected to the other ones through over-ground trains which run through gigantic buildings. Instead of running the 3D animation that revealed what London would look like in fifty years’ time in the background, 80% of Jade’s report went on displaying the people that she interviewed. Yet, despite my effort to uphold our mutual pledge for unreserved openness towards each other, Jade’s ecstatic face assumed a raging expression, and reimbursed my honesty, with her adamant you don’t exist attitude. Just like an intravenous virus, my honesty derailed her into ignoring my existence every time I tried reaching out to her. Her tormenting muteness prevailed for almost three weeks.
You must know what kind of silence, I am talking about.
It’s that type of silence that persuades you that Body Snatchers exist, converting your partner turns into a callous alien. Once Jade’s authentic soul returned to inhabit her body and resumed our communication, I promised her that she would no longer hear my verbal farting about her work.
It is incredible how people can’t stand the stench of truth. Regardless of its noble intention, honesty always triggers an unpleasant response, as though you ended up berrrrrrrrrrrrrding it right out of your mouth. Instead of rewarding me with a kiss, a hug or at least a generous smile for responding sincerely to her enquiry about London’s development vision, Jade’s face turned into resembling the Edward Munch’s painting, The Scream. Therefore, instead of watching and commenting Jade’s televised reports, I now record all her broadcasts, so that she could judge them herself.
Up until yesterday, I kept my word and to avoid future quarrelling; I avoided her TV-reporting, every single one of them. However, last night Jade stringently asserted to watch the documentary devoted to the United Nations’ Convention on the Secret of Divine Civilisation. Jade worked tirelessly on it throughout April, narrating it alongside her colleague Philip Osborne. Aware of my zealous passion for’70’s jazz music and human evolution, she insisted I should stay home and watch it. Besides, yesterday was a public holiday, and since most eateries closed, I decided to prepare a soothing dinner for Jade. I took out the frozen chicken fillets from the freezer, soaked them in warm water, washed the peppers and red onions and began slicing them into thin strips. Then I uncorked the green bottle, before pouring a quarter of the Sancerre’s yellow liquid into the chipped wine glass. After placing the bottle back in the fridge, I strolled towards the living room, plopping down comfortably on our green leather sofa, adjacent to large black and white photograph of Miles Davis kissing his trumpet. Grover Washington Jr’s startling cover of Temptations’ Masterpiece floated pleasantly in the air. Halfway through Grover’s saxophone solo over the punchy bass trombones, the opening sequence of the televised documentary began.
It displayed scenes from the first quarter of this century with Philips’s narrative in the background and disheartening figures occupying the lower part the screen. Most likely, this correspondence finds you sad, culpable, discontent and humiliated with the way the world’s evolving around you. Surely, you must resent your peers’ endowment of irreversibly tarnishing our precious ecosystem. I happened to be completely oblivious to the fact that in your lifetime, poverty brutally exterminated around 25,000 children a day, while half of the world’s population was earning less than $2.50 a day. Apparently, less than twenty percent of all the population retained eighty percent of the world’s overall capital. Philip reiterated that this unequal distribution of global wealth caused recessions, depriving people of their jobs, homes, investments and savings.
Could you imagine if wild animals behaved the same as humans, killing their preys and keeping it exclusively to themselves? If they were to retain their catch, all to themselves like humans do, animals would have gone extinct by now. Fortunately, animals are smarter than us and share, and sustain their future supplies, by also feeding others upon whom they depend. It would have been interesting to see how our society and economy would evolve if copied the way animals handle their goods.
Imagine if money received would expire 24-months from the day people receive them?
It would force them to either spend their excessive amounts or give it away to others that need it, thus contributing to the economy.