Metamorphosis or metastasis…?
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was originality in the air, everyone looked different and everything looked like perhaps it was supposed to. Girls looked like girls, boys looked like boys. Well, no story ever began like that, now did it? Adults looked like adults and behaved like them too. Forget about looks, they even did things differently, as in there were specific aspects to childhood that one wouldn’t want to trade off, ever. There was innocence, there was individuality, there was contentment; there was peace. Then a silent, but salient wave overtook everything and changed it forever, perhaps. Metamorphosis, turned out to be a tad uniform when it referred to the humans peopling the cityscape. Everyone looked painfully similar. Originality went out the window and a monotonous similarity became overwhelmingly visible. Little girls looked like clones of someone, one happened to see in the latest magazines, adult women looked like them too. They all carried t...