This tunnel is well lit.

Some tunnels are rabbit holes, some filled with pack rat vaults. Some tunnels are underground, dark and womb like, leading to gold and silver leprecaun caches. Some tunnels are constructed with giant boring machines, go under seas and through mountains to deep underground cities. Through some tunnels we enter this world, and through others, leave.

This horizontal escalator is a metaphor of our times. Pampered, we need to walk, but aren’t forced to.

Two girls pass, in a hurry. One lifts her phone and takes a selfie.

This gleaming tunnel of concrete, glass and steel moves us steadily forwards. On a moving treadmill, we go where we are told,are put where we are wanted, are entered on flight lists, and ring up charges on our credit cards in a credit world.

We live in a rabbit hole and, like Alice, what is real increasingly seems to be something we can’t exactly put our finger on.

Tunnel vision becomes a close friend who always nods approvingly and puts an arm around our shoulder.

Lost in this airport, I look for landmarks.

This flat escalator could drop me off  anywhere.

 

 

 

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