Obligatory "ignore this space" : https://sacoronavirus.co.za

Keep it simple! While the designers of ancient cities found their vision was thwarted by the residents inevitably behaving like people, inevitably city designers were told to keep on trying, and what could they do but keep on trying for Utopia?

When a country is founded by people who have not run away from their own, but by those who see an opportunity to start anew with the history of ages to guide them, we might think that boys, girls, men, women, and everything in between would by catered for in this country's cities.

Finding that our enthusiasm for technology had left us defending a Giant Squib designed by an artist while others told us to be excited about a television transmission network that is as expensive as it is unnecessary, and about a means for creatures out of this world to give directions without referring to history, we might wind back to the word unnecessary, recall that we might also write that with pencil and paper, and that the same can be said about practical calculations, including those needed for the construction of the giant rocket which, they say, though those who say it don't refer to the launch which no-one within a hundred miles could've missed, if it took off at all contained no passengers.

And calculations for the construction of aeroplanes no different from those we have today.

In one mindset, which was my own until I found a way out of a fantasy world, advanced technology gives us the key to Utopia: which, while it explains why there is no Theory of spreadsheets, means that, without the ingredient of necessity which brings us to exercise our mental arithmetic, we must go about tapping each other on the heads to keep from mental preoccupations that lead nowhere, such as the contemplation of Utopia.

My objective contemplation of Canada started a good fifteen years after I had visited the place. Going to the Moon, before Saturn V, only recalled a nursery rhyme; the Giant Squib led the conversation to deep space; the contemplation of deep space is supposed to get us to look at something other than a rocket; and also at the preparation.

Not being prepared might mean we just keep quiet and look at the lonely woods. Some might refer to dangerous animals and exposure and show us how safe the cities are, and, further, tell us that all we're doing is hankering after fictitious places. Old soldiers kept quiet about what they knew any soldier could do. Mothers did what they could to prevent their sons walking away from a culture of jealousy, which, necessarily, implies the keeping of the facts of old soldiers a secret: which explains why Red Coats are not called Red Coats.

The same kind of secrecy, it seems, which implies the keeping of what happens in Vegas, in Vegas.

Respectable prefectship, such as the directing of traffic, had been replaced by technology, so that boys would have to volunteer to guard a drinking fountain when the people had decided that all the drinking fountains aught to be decommissioned.

This rolling back of public conveniences, which seems to have started over two generations ago, might get those to panic who adopted a country, for looking back at the one they left, which rolled back the public convenience called a park bench, and has remained in this condition for a full generation, as a nation awaiting the arrival of Adam.

I have been concerning myself about the age difference between a man and his Eve, my adult life through. One would think that our specific requirements would not be matters that we were expected to detail, for otherwise we must start calling people too old who themselves feel as new-born babes. I believe I presented a mystery to everyone I knew, for what happened to the boy they knew was as much a mystery to me. Some talk of identity confusion, which can only remind me of a lovable friend who was a third of a party, who seemed to know who he was, but not why we ended up being required to pay for things which we refused to have when they were offered to us as a gift.

No thanks, I don't want your paw-paw.

But now I'm getting hungry. Those at the shelter, who didn't know enough to ask for the means to express themselves in letters, had more of my sympathy than any other Canadian I met, for religion and school can work hand-in-glove to turn those with natural intelligence into victims. But this victimhood creates fantasy-worlds itself. The shelter is an Utopian idea.

In a Utopia we might well find spell-checkers which don't curse us with definitive spellings which are chosen arbitrarily simply so as to be able to curse us: for not knowing our ordained set of spelling variants, for not knowing how to select our country from a list, and seemingly only for the purpose of undermining our freedom of expression in a way which everyone insists is irrelevant.

Freedom of expression can lead people to spell things incorrectly, deliberately: in a country which is bilingual this might amount to nothing less than the war of the roses.

There are those who will say I aught to have thought of emigrating while I was of an ideal age. But besides what I've said of age differences, which recalls to mind one who attempted to create an empire, whose older wife called his behaviour but extravagant, the Red Coats guard the word hanker: that is, the insight I gained put me at odds with those who thought they were keeping secrets from me.

Which is just given as something for people to think about, and maybe talk about. People who, like me, find themselves making a stand against racism to their own peril.