God and Dali

The rain continues to splatter with it's rhythmic chime. I feel nothing. Sheltered from the meaning of life, I attempt to resurrect my own personal meaning. The rhythmic splatter continues to chime. My life marches on without me. A vast emptiness of a certain plane, a landscape stuck in surrealist light, not unlike a Dali painting. A painting that's a definite landscape, yet futuristic and scientific, vast and complex, exploring insanity. Outside parameters setting a true example of the human condition. Actually, very much like the surrealist landscape, not unlike Salvador Dali and his strokes of  a master. The box expands outside of the human condition, asking if there remains a box at all? And just like that, the landscape changes before my eyes and there's no longer any painting at all.