There is a sea where all parents dump their kids in.
In certain hours of sunrise or sunset, you can almost see the vague dichotomy of individual lanes for each kid to swim. Much like an infinity pool. Except this one really does feel like infinity. You can already tell it's going to be a long journey before they see land again. What the parents lacked for in terms of stamina, they made up for with their sacrifice and love, just in order to get their kids within the vicinity of the sea. They bet their livelihood on their little swimmers making it through the end.
From the early years of parenting, their children have been groomed. They have been fed with the idea that the way to a better life is to swim through this sea and come out at the end. They were told to swim, no matter how hard it gets, and reach the end, as fast as they can. And now, the were here.
Moments away from the big swim.
Why fast? we don't know.
These parents had themselves been groomed by their own parents. The idea was that getting near the seas just meant you were that much closer to success. You just follow, you don't ask. Year in, year out. Two intakes per year. You just give them all the money you have, and then you qualify to participate. Then, the 'race' begins, (and ends-- at everyone's own pace). We aren't told why the sea is a measure of whether or not someone has, in simple terms 'made it'. It just is. The trick is simple. Get to the end. Fast.
Some take their time. Some come equipped with the best swimsuits/swimwear. Some don't have the money to afford the gear, and come with what little they have and their natural swimming abilities. Only those who have actually swam in it would be able to tell you what a deceptive sea it is. How volatile and unpredictable. How sometimes, waves come crashing in and threaten to engulf you whole. Then, hours later, a calmness. The kind that you could fall asleep on its surface.
Some give it their full force in the race, from start to end. Some take their time and go where the tides take them. Some find what way works for them, and by sheer luck, stumble upon abandoned boats, floats or rafts and seize what little chance they have to preserve their dying stamina. Now, everyone's stamina is different. It is NOT a level playing field. But what it somehow is, is that it's a race.
What happens at the end? Success, we are told. A better life.
Never mind that we barely have any energy left in us by the time we get there. Never mind the nearly impossible journey and all the ways you tried that didn't work out. Never mind the fact that you had to leave behind familiarity and brave this foreign sea which felt a lot like a foe than a friend. Never mind that you were swimming with equally devious company, the kind that would drown you to take the lead. The kind that helps you all the way then when you get close to land leaves you on your own. Never mind that you don't even know how to swim. You were supposed to. It's what normal people do. In the end, you got there. That's what counts , no?
In certain hours of sunrise or sunset, you can almost see the vague dichotomy of individual lanes for each kid to swim. Much like an infinity pool. Except this one really does feel like infinity. You can already tell it's going to be a long journey before they see land again. What the parents lacked for in terms of stamina, they made up for with their sacrifice and love, just in order to get their kids within the vicinity of the sea. They bet their livelihood on their little swimmers making it through the end.
From the early years of parenting, their children have been groomed. They have been fed with the idea that the way to a better life is to swim through this sea and come out at the end. They were told to swim, no matter how hard it gets, and reach the end, as fast as they can. And now, the were here.
Moments away from the big swim.
Why fast? we don't know.
These parents had themselves been groomed by their own parents. The idea was that getting near the seas just meant you were that much closer to success. You just follow, you don't ask. Year in, year out. Two intakes per year. You just give them all the money you have, and then you qualify to participate. Then, the 'race' begins, (and ends-- at everyone's own pace). We aren't told why the sea is a measure of whether or not someone has, in simple terms 'made it'. It just is. The trick is simple. Get to the end. Fast.
Some take their time. Some come equipped with the best swimsuits/swimwear. Some don't have the money to afford the gear, and come with what little they have and their natural swimming abilities. Only those who have actually swam in it would be able to tell you what a deceptive sea it is. How volatile and unpredictable. How sometimes, waves come crashing in and threaten to engulf you whole. Then, hours later, a calmness. The kind that you could fall asleep on its surface.
Some give it their full force in the race, from start to end. Some take their time and go where the tides take them. Some find what way works for them, and by sheer luck, stumble upon abandoned boats, floats or rafts and seize what little chance they have to preserve their dying stamina. Now, everyone's stamina is different. It is NOT a level playing field. But what it somehow is, is that it's a race.
What happens at the end? Success, we are told. A better life.
Never mind that we barely have any energy left in us by the time we get there. Never mind the nearly impossible journey and all the ways you tried that didn't work out. Never mind the fact that you had to leave behind familiarity and brave this foreign sea which felt a lot like a foe than a friend. Never mind that you were swimming with equally devious company, the kind that would drown you to take the lead. The kind that helps you all the way then when you get close to land leaves you on your own. Never mind that you don't even know how to swim. You were supposed to. It's what normal people do. In the end, you got there. That's what counts , no?