Russian dolls

The most trancendental realizations always appear where we least expect them.

I was listening to the evening news, oil prices going up, attacks in Baghdad, free fall of Swiss airlines, and so on, you know the drill, when the root cause appeared to me in a succession of animated images:

Zooming out, in time, space and dimensions. Like a kind of Russian doll system, I was successively coming out of systems nested in each other. And I find myself an invisible spectator, in a teenager's room, with a dirty pimply kid who, with a dubious cigarette butt in his mouth, a scary look, strums an electric guitar with an appalling amateurism, producing dizzying and horrifying sounds. 

Each "note" played provokes multidimensional waves that penetrate all the dimensions included, provoking as many oil crises, heart attacks, conservative rises, coups d'états at the level of the smallest doll.

The bedroom door swings open, a visibly angry man explodes:

- "Son, I've already asked you to turn down the sound when you practice with that damn instrument! And besides, you'd better start learning music theory, it's unbearable! You are abusing the whole universe with this cacophony! At least respect the inherent harmony of this creation!

- Oh, shit! Dad, you're not going to start again with your traditional sermons! Open your eyes! This system is rotten, it has to change! And the sooner the better...

I slip away, hearing the echo of laughter from a part of me that resides twelve dolls above.

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