These people I see around me are simpletons. They laugh over little nothing, their smiles come easy and last for too long. Mud is all they are – they strive for nothing, their aspirations mean nothing. They shrug off their very existence and all that has been bestowed upon them as if it were all created with a careless gesture.
Mud is static. Perhaps these people are lesser than mud, some cast-away remnant of the primordial soup from which we all hail. They have sprung from the mud and to the mud they will return as they age and their features melt away and all that they have worked without pain to acquire leaves them.
And then we’ll see who has the last laugh.