Perpetuity

Mapping the mobius strip.


Stay on the same trail long enough and the random patterns in the random branches on the random trees begin to repeat, coalescing into a predictable mosaic of random fractal images, sounds, smells, faces, events.


In a decade one can know the same hundred people a hundred times over and never sleep two nights in the same bed, never spend more than a week in the same town, never be bothered to learn surnames or birthdates, menial trivia or complex psychology.


The song, though played in a different century, on different instruments, by different artists, is essentially the same. Likewise the corresponding dance hardly changes, though the choreographer has been dust for decades.


Predictable storylines, overly dramatic actors, poorly constructed set pieces...


All things old are new again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.


And again.