Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
Kids are the best at reminding you that happiness is relative to your immediate goals and a certain amount of ignorance is necessary for their accomplishment.
STACKING ROCKS GRADUALLY POSITIONS MY FEAR AND CONFIDENCE INTO A PRECARIOUS BALANCE OF SATISFACTION
Stories exist to help the reader make sense of his existence in the universe, so depending on your audience's world view, you can either explain how the sun creates energy via nuclear fusion, whereby energy is released as a byproduct of hydrogen atoms fusing into helium or you can tell the story about Helios riding his Chariot across the sky. I've always found people like Chariots better.
What I enjoy most about traveling abroad is the need to take personal responsibility for one's own well being. Things like stairways without railings and running with the bulls have been legislatively wiped out of our culture and sanitized for your protection. Except for the Chair Lift, one of the last remaining artifacts of potential danger in America. Dangling above a snowy death is an exhilarating reminder that you're alive, and to pay attention if you wish to remain so.
In the new economy people are hyper aware of marketing and have more options to delete, mute, opt out or select another channel than ever before. A mediocre experience that takes no risks, that stretches no boundaries doesn’t get talked about. When the tourists get home what will they share with thier friends, what will they post to their walls, certainly not the smoothly paved road leading to a block of beige apartments.