Back in 74 the shy nineteen year old stepped out of the record store clutching his copy of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. It was the last album he’d purchase as a single man. Its title was symbolic of where his life was headed from that moment.
For the next forty years this shy man was in orbit holed up inside a craft fueled by convention, steered by and viewed through the lens of ambivalence. The long at times arduous journey took him through myriad atmospheres of varying degrees of darkness. Suddenly the craft shuddered and landed with a splash. Wiping away the condensation, he peered through the clearing in the ambivalence and saw he had landed upon the surface of a wide lake. The atmosphere outside looked inviting. Disregarding convention he kicked open the hatch to investigate, immediately averting his eyes as he did so – he had arrived back on the bright side of the moon. With relief he leapt ashore and steadied himself. Hearing a loud gurgling sound he turned to see his craft sink into the depths of oblivion taking with it all he had brought but actually did not need any more. ‘Everything before today is now irrelevant,’ the confident sixty year old uttered as he ascended the lakeside and stepped back into the record store.