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Recreating the Future
He woke up with a start, sweating very profusely. This is the third time in one week that Clark, a twenty two year old sales clerk at a local supermarket would be having the same dreadful nightmare. He has always seen the same poor old man looking haggard and unkempt in worn out suit that must have been acquired not less than twenty years earlier; clutching under his arm old files containing ‘God-knows-what’, trudging slowly along the streets to presumably a place of work. Read on
What then is Love?
Florence curled up on the bed in her room paying rapt attention to her favourite TV discussion programme. “Love is a commonly thrown around four-letter word,” the presenter said. “You must have made statements like ‘I love Spaghetti’ ‘I love roasted chicken’ ‘I love him’ ‘I love her’” “What then is real love?” the presenter asked. Florence ruminating over the statements repeated the question to herself several times. Her attention was drawn back to the programme by the sharp penetrating voice of one of the female members in the discussion panel “To understand love, an individual must know what love is not.”
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