• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 08
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The Grid

We're all part of a grid, a network, the term 'global village' was bandied about a lot at one time but social networks have made it true. In the sixties people were tripped out, open to new ideas, technicolour dreams the hippies revelled in while experimenting with drugs and free love amid chaos. Vietnam was never far away, pinned to the colours of the American flag when planted firmly in the moon's tenuous dust.

We have perhaps always been global, when our ape like ancestors left the Great Rift valley and set out in all directions in search of hope, the grid's foundations were laid, one of symbols and language and imagination. What lay over the horizon ape-like man may have thought, a better deal?

Charcoal drawings of hands on walls made by a primitive individual taking shelter from a storm maybe. For him it was more than self awareness but a way of expressing himself about the world and these few tender steps lead the way to telling stories.

For unknown to him there was a revolution coming, there's always a revolution coming, agricultural, industrial, political, social, digital. For most life it's evolution and was for us until we took those first bipedal steps, but now it's revolution, a celebration for some, for many alienation.

Some feel trapped by the nauseating colours of the screen, others liberated by the easy access of a world online, others depressed by what could have been, perhaps left for another time. Fountain pen ink dry, the colours awash, screen saver and 'profile pic' changes from day to day, time gone.