hope needs more effective SEO.

www.passionair.com

For two years of my life this sign has haunted me.

On journeys to and from work, it gawks at me silently from atop a little warehouse along that stretch on the expressway, white type emboldened gloriously in blue, a statement so simple, so blatant in its execution it couldn't possibly be anything less than fact. Anything less than meaningful.

I was convinced, especially on the really trying days, with my shoulders as heavy as my eyes, standing in the bus staggering like slurred pleas in the morning's traffic drawl, with these words peering out at me - it is a sign.

Well of course it is - but surely it holds something more.

The magical cupboards enclosing beautiful netherworlds, the wise and generous phantom kings with treasures to share - all the ones and similar others I've read of in childhood books of lore ensured me of the sign's dormant possibilities. My willingness to swallow the odds ensured me the dormant possibility of my insanity.
But shit like that does happen, right? And if it does, it sure in hell will happen to me.

This could very well be the answer to my woes, an adventure for the desperate and bored, a secret treasure waiting only for the brave and the whimsy! Yes!
Then another thought would appear and then I'd forget, almost as easily, again, ploughing through the day or night sometimes with hopeful zealousness, always with wanton absent-mindedness and never truly spiritedly.

So today I finally googled it.

www.Passionair.com

I guess I had always known I'd keep it for a night like this, leave its meaning undiscovered until absolutely necessary, until hope deplete, and the need for hope is sought after, clawed at, lackadaisically yearned for and less lackadaisically compelled to and this is it -

My magical cupboard,
my wise and generous phantom king,
my authorised air-conditioning dealer.

Yup.

It's alright, I'm cool.