To all the places I've striven to hate and to lands of boundless beauty,
The anecdotes of my experiences with you contribute handsomely as tesserae to this mosaic undergoing curation. It is the ever-publicised stereotypes that I claim to harbour objections to, but those of which are broadcast in a favourable light, I knowingly use to my aid.
How effervescently I speak of the hillocks evergreen, of their inhabitants healthy and pure. Ever-sympathetic is my thought process to the plight of those displaced. All of what is enriching to look at, how seamlessly I can praise.
But when has eye candy ever ceased to appease? What of the firmer stereotypes awaiting dispulsion? It seems that to rely on the visibly alluring delights is a defense mechanism of mine, so rigid as a natural.
Such are the conflicting ideas of home that forbid me from connecting to the crux of my land. One's place of origin is inherently a part of their identity, and I look for greater beauty than is present amidst this crisis foretold.
Yet it cannot be that contemplation of such nuance is indicative of a continued flimsy perception, it does not do for an observer to take pride only in what is superficially appreciable. With the acumination of this passion of mine to assemble the most poetic of words that spring to mind, I call for change within, for that is as much as is under my control.
One of a billion souls entranced,
A possible nationalist in the making.
YOU ARE READING
The frivolity on my mind
Non-FictionEmploying an occasional sarcastic tone, here is an attempt at capturing emotions (in the form of letters, addressed to or about (in)tangible entities)) that have so often been the subject of my ponderances, because nothing weighing me down should be...
