Didn't there used to be a famous book on zen boudhism called the loneliness of the long-distance runner, or am I getting confused with motorcycle maintenence..?
Oh well, this really brings to mind an image of some little boy from the forties or something, all done up in his school uniform with nicely pressed shorts, clutching hard to the strap of his satchel with his bottom lip quivering and tears welling up in his eyes but trying to be a 'big boy' as he heads off to boarding school for the first time.
Maybe it's the sign, 'Grand Voyager', that makes me thing of you're a 'big boy now'. Or maybe the seeming solitude amongst this multitude of other lives buzzing back and forth like some sort of Brownian motion experiment from the school science lab.
I was reading a book of philosophical puzzles the other day, and one of them was, why do we get excited or sad or scared or just simply emotional when we watch films or read books? We know it's not real. And this guy is probably some highly competent, high-flying businessman ready to be whisked off to some vital business meeting to clinch a deal with the Japanese after months of intense negotiation.
But he still looks like a little boy lost to me. So why do we?
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