He was growing old. Older than he had been. He was part of Generation Y and had just broken through his twenties and entered his thirties. The drug epidemic that was plaguing the world was taking casualties from all classes. It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor. Well, that’s a lie. In reality, if you had the money to spend on drugs you were more likely to succumb to its deadly affliction. But those who were going through the affliction of drug abuse were numb to its effects.

And as this man, Greg was his name, grew older. As Greg grew older, he watched the world fall apart around him. Maybe it was natural. Maybe it was all natural that everything was falling apart. Maybe things were meant to fall apart before it could be put back together. Or maybe, just maybe, nothing was ever maintained in the first place and the world has always had its problems like a big stinking mound of shit.

So as Greg grew older he did more things. Slowly building up different skills along the way. Doing different things and building up more skills along the way. He was always learning something new. All new skill sets along the way that would generally amount to some degree of distinction.

He was getting his motorcycle license. Just his learner licence. He already knew how to ride, but that was back in another country where road rules weren’t put into common use because everybody broke them. Everybody broke them and everybody rode bikes themselves. So now he was back in Australia, trying to get qualified for a motorcycle license.

Everything was going smoothly. The trainer had some experience riding and was instructing the group of students in their skill set. Greg had already obtained his license, but it was years back and was no longer valid. Now, everything had changed. There must have been a whole lot of accidents on the road or something along those lines where people had obtained their learner plates and been struck down by accidents.

So now he was coming to some degree of conflict within the new systems that had been put in place. They had all been put in place, at the end of the day, to make money. Everything at the end of the day was done for money and now that they had a bunch of people dying on the roads, they had their excuse to put in a whole bunch of extra rules and standards because of it. At the end of the day it amounted to the fact that not everyone was brought up with motorcycles and being taught how to ride one of the goddamn things.

The motorcycle trainer was trying to explain it to him, “The world is a globe, not a cube.”

“Excuse me?”

“The world is a globe, not a cube.”

“What is that meant to mean?”

“It means you’re getting old. Things have changed. For better or worse the world has changed and we all have to live with it.”

It must have been something. For the forty year old man to tell the thirty year old Greg. They were living in a different world now. One where the world puts bubble wrapping on everyone else. Just to keep them alive. But in the end, what’s the point in being alive if you can never really live?

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