The pothole situation in the city has sunk to new depths.
After the rain a mere puddle can actually be a deep and treacherous ravine. Half your car can sink and tyres can bust on what you thought was a bit of water, reflecting on the road.
I’m tempted to say that it’s a metaphor for life. And actually I am going to say just that. Potholes in the road that look like mere shallow puddles, but are deep and dangerous, are like situations in life where you think everything is clear and fathomable, when the exact opposite applies.
Before you know it, you are being towed away. I’m tired of being stranded on the side of the road.
How awful it is to have to say ‘don’t trust anything on the road of life,’ because there is always danger lurking where it cannot be seen.
At night it’s the worst. That’s why I lock the door and go to bed early. Driving around the city after dark is a temptation. A temptation to exist, as the philosophical saying goes.
Somehow we always want to rise above our station. However high you go there’s always a need to go higher. It’s just that the potholes in life keep bringing us down.
And I don’t want to merely exist, I want to live.