The intrusion happened just before dawn, under the cover of darkness. It was the opposite of subtle: it was loud, noisy and a complete rumpus. The sound woke up the residents, who in a measured and dizzy manner hobbled toward the source of all this commotion to see what was, in fact, up.
It turned out to be a very smol kitten engaged in a deadly combat with a sock. The outcome was still uncertain, but it seemed as if the sock was winning.
Relieved, the inhabitants saved the kitten and went back to sleep, bringing the smol purring ball of fur with them.
“I finally did it. I finally threw the TV set out of the window. Finally, we are free”
“Dad, it’s a plush toy. Are you ever going to tire of symbolically throwing it away, only to unceremoniously retrieve it minutes later?”
“It’s the principle of the thing. We have to remind ourselves that we are free to throw away the machines, and not the other way around”
“So if I were to throw out this smartphone…”
“Whoa there. Slow down. That’s a different principle”
“Okay then. But you’re making dinner”
“My favoritest principle of them all”
It was a strange place. In fact, it was not a place at all. Rather, it was a place next to a place, somewhere you had to go and found yourself going when you were at that other place. Come to think of it, if you were at that other place, you might as well have been here, too. While everything in theory and on paper suggested the two were separate, autonomous entities, they were linked by a casual everyday praxis so ingrained in the very fabric of being that they were, in practice, one and the same.
Hang around long enough, and this understanding will sneak up on you, before you know it.