It started this weekend: the sound of spinning tires that cuts through the thin walls of my building; the sight of cars attempting to get up the hill, backing up and gunning it to no avail, then giving up and turning around. A pessimist might see this as a metaphor for life: you can keep spinning your wheels and it won’t do shit, man, something is always going to hold you back whether it’s ice, your bald tires, or society. An optimist might also see this as a metaphor: you can keep doing the same thing you always do and get nowhere, or you could find a different path, and what was once an obstacle will undoubtedly lead you to opportunities and happiness. Someone in the middle would just tell you to avoid driving up that hill altogether until, oh, about March.
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