glass jar
Recently my thoughts have been drawn, like moths to a flame, to how our memories and actions often seem to be incompatible with each other. How do we live with ourselves? We erect walls of glass within our minds to separate our contradictions, so they may coexist, but never quite meet. We know to never allow those ideas to touch, for the resulting explosion could be quite messy. And when, as does eventually happen, they force themselves onto our consciousness and buzz annoyingly on the glass walls, we quickly slap them down. Nothing is more painful than facing ourselves as we truly are, without the glass to hide behind. This seed that took root in my mind came from within and without, as it were, though I was somewhat coerced in the matter. For class, I selected my summer reading, and through it I came to know that we inflict inhumane cruelties upon our animal counterparts, simply for our culinary pleasure. Consider the lobster . Into the pot of boiling water it goes with hardly