When your daily grind threatens to turn you to dust. When you catch the same train down the same tracks with the same tired faces to the same crowded stations. When you reach the same office populated by the same lapdogs doing, and even saying the same things as they did yesterday, it’s time for some kind of escape hatch right.
You can push your seat back to the wall, fling your hands in the air and walk out for good; some chance, how’re you going to pay the bills that always want to drag you under?
You could call in sick and spend the day doing something far less tedious – even scrubbing the oven.
You could turn to drink and drugs – but in boring company that’s no fun either.
Best thing, find your favourite author, turn the cover of your starchy new or beaten, dog-eared book and step out of this world and into another.
Working with dullards, time to go On The Road, too many girly girls in the office, reach for Jack London, feeling tired of the city, look to the romantic poets.
You’ll find medicine to counter the most indigestible of tedium in a whole universe of pages.
You might have noticed that the rise of the novel and fiction coincided with the industrial revolution – it was the first time an alternative escape portal to drudge and conformity was needed by the many.
If you can read you can walk out of this world through many doors.
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