I am surrounded by sounds today. The dishwasher gurgles. The radio sings. Rain attacks the skylight. My dog has begun to snore in wheezes and whistles that make me wonder if a cartoon is playing in a distant room. The house shivers and the plates in their cabinets rattle when the washing machine spins.
Today is a day for doing. I have destinations all around the city marked on a map in my mind. I draw red lines between each stop, making constellations of obligation. Do rats make maps when they run a maze? Can they see the stars? Like them, I shall reward myself when I have followed every line and found a stopping point.
The maze never truly ends. I understand why people seek gods. Seek meaning. Do rats measure the benevolence of humans-become-gods, or do they preach acceptance in their huddled dens? I have stepped outside that bewildering path, seeking to make my own meaning, create my own rewards. The same stars shine down, but the constellations are my own.