If I were asked, I’d say that it must be like buying one of the first televisions ever invented. As the family sat down and gathered around the tiny little screen, they must have been so fascinated by the world trapped within it. There, in the large brown box that held the insignificant screen, danced images of grey from all over the world. The family must have watched in silence as they witnessed something so far away, so distant, so beautiful from the comfort of their own home.
And as they stared into the gateway of the universe, they would have seen things that they had never seen before in their lives; Mountains in distant lands, beaches in tropical locations, the world beneath the sea, the universe beyond the stars. And they would stare in awe, having never before seen such incredible images flashing before them as if they were real. It would become a sensory overload, something so completely fixating that there’s almost no way to escape it. But why would you ever want to escape?
Instead, you would sit back and let the images flash before your eyes, let the pictures capture your mind and soul, pulling you in deeper and deeper until you’re so lost in the unimaginable that you forget what life was like before the tiny box appeared in your home. It becomes a staple part of your life, something you look forward to every day. It makes you happy, shows you the world, and promises to always, always keep you entertained no matter how bad your day has been.
If I were asked to describe the impossible, that is what I’d say; If I were asked to describe what I saw in your eyes.
The Mitchener Chronicles 