Theme: Festival


Old people and children are to blame for our overpopulation, yet the land where
I live, is empty, everyone has gone to live in a city fleeing poverty hoping to find
work, now they are worse off than before. A sudden blackout, I sat in darkness
couldn’t even see my hands. Staggered around till I found a flashlight, lit candles
I had in the kitchen; back at the time when people rose at first light and went to
bed early and stories were told by the old by the fireside. Only priests could read
and we believed in their gospel truths and they held the evil power of knowledge.

Now cities are lit up like Christmas, no corners are dark and it easier to believe in
neon light rather than god. We are urbane and laugh in the face of gloom and call
it Halloween. There was a time when people were old at forty and many children
died in infancy. Electricity is back, but we mustn’t forget if we do not take care
we can easily be thrown into to a world of cruelty where only those between the age
of twenty and sixty have the right to eat, and babies are hidden in basements to
avoid detection have their vocal cord cut. The old have facelift in frantic attempt
to look fifty four, to avoid being gassed, at places called: “Friends of the seniors”
and “Heavenly Peace.” And silent children, survivors of our selfish madness, shall
inherit our world and learn to whistle as new way of communication.


More By  :  Jan Oscar Hansen

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