some mistakes were made but none were imagined
I mean ten or twenty years. I mean middle age, old age. Death. I mean the world improved and dreams realized or darkening every day, roads in ruin. And then all places in between.
Most can't do this. Or won't. It makes people anxious or angry. Or blank.
We have never been busier. So surely all this work and attention and constant distraction must be pointed somewhere, must amount to something. Do we even know what we are doing, and why?
Some people will say, O I just want to be secure and generally happy. Which is a bit like saying you just want it to be warm and sunny out, with no idea that the sun is made of flames.