Kaitch

There’s a guy claiming to be you, Josh. Is it you? Could it be? Sitting there in your amour-plated chair, like Schrödinger’s conundrum.

They say it isn’t, that it couldn’t be. Too young, too young. Too wrong. But then they only see with their eyes, Josh, only see with their eyes. Only see what they’re told to see. What they want to see. What they need to see. Which means they see nothing at all. Put away those optic nerves, baby, wrap them up and keep them safe. They’re strictly for navigation purposes only. Don’t need no navigation to see. Hide those baby blues. Erwin’s kitty just don’t work the peep show circuit. Time to cover up with a pair of those 4D wraparounds, sit back in your seat and open up to the possibilities. And don’t forget the popcorn because this could be one long adventure trip.

Alive or dead? Or both states simultaneously. Josh, or not Josh? Or both –

I should go and find out. But all the time I don’t, the paradox remains. The hope remains. The truth remains. It’s Josh and it isn’t Josh. If I go, I unleash the diabolical mechanism. Josh becomes not Josh. Because no one else will see. They see nothing at all.