I’ve decided to start writing again. Here’s a little story. Hope you can make sense of it.
Once upon a long time ago, that was so long ago, that no one can remember, everyone in the world lived where they lived and lived nowhere else.
Because everyone lived where they lived and lived nowhere else, no one ever thought that there might be anywhere else to live, or, indeed that there might actually be anyone else living there.
That was how it was, a long time ago, so long ago that no one remembers.
All this might seem strange nowadays, when everyone is in such a rush to live somewhere else and not to live where they live.
A long time ago though, people lived where they lived, and they called it home, and they saw no point in rushing off to live in other places which might not even be there. (because you don’t actually know that a place you don’t know is actually where it is, until you get there)
A long time ago, people also saw no point in rushing off to live in other places that might be someone else’s home. Why do you want to live in someone else’s home when you have your own home?
And because no one ever went anywhere, there were no fantastic stories or tall tales from other realms.
In a time before time, that was even longer than a long time ago, there had been a different time, when people had travelled, and had left their homes, and had gone somewhere else, but, those people had never come home to tell those who had stayed home, that there were other places in the world. So, the people that had stayed home, decided to leave home and see what the world was like. Everyone went on long voyages and they never ever returned home
So it was one day, that all the kings and all the queens, and princes and pachas, and presidents and potentates, everywhere in all the world, looked around, and suddenly realised that they had little, or no one, left to rule
So all the kings and all the queens and princes and pachas and presidents and potentates everywhere in all the world, decreed that no one would ever be allowed to go anywhere ever again, because, when people went somewhere, they never came back, and the whole point of going somewhere was to come back and tell everyone where you had been what you had seen, because that is how stories are made
And so it was, that no one ever went anywhere ever again, and the whole world slipped out of story and out of memory, until people thought that the world was just where they lived and no more, and they had no more stories to tell
All this was in a time so long ago that no one can remember