Success

Bubbles in the air, some big, some small, some shinier than others, but bubbles afterall.

Staying aloof, safe in their zone, for any real contact risks being blown out.

Ah, it must pain to pop out.

Tricks of the success trade - silence, self-centred, use all that is around to keep the bubble safe, use and throw people as needed, when needed, make and shred promises as if they were vain scribbles on waste paper.

The success gait, look, smile, selfie, aura packaged to keep the bubble afloat.

In a dense crowd of blowing bubbles, is there still any breathing space left for real people? Real friends? For real love and compassion?

Real stuff, that doesn’t pop out, ever?