He said that billions of years ago, the world shifting and oceans moving brought that sand to that spot on the beach, and then I took it away. “Every day,” he said, “we change the world.” Which is a nice thought until I think about how many days and lifetimes I would need to bring a shoe full of sand home until there is no beach. Until it made a difference to anyone.

Seems like we’re always thinking of ourselves when looking for something that’s lost, but we never think much about the lost, whatever, whoever is unable to be found, whether it’s a set of keys left somewhere and forgotten, a couple of guys wandering aimlessly in the woods, or someone who’s disappeared inside himself. What if that’s what they wanted all along? Not to be found.

Control can sometimes be an illusion, but sometimes you need illusion to gain control. Fantasy is an easy way to give meaning to the world, to cloak our harsh reality in escapist comfort. After all, isn’t that why we surround ourselves with so many screens? So we can avoid seeing? So we can avoid each other? So we can avoid truth.