Imagine getting into a Taxi each morning and sitting in the back seat. Somedays your destination is set, others you’re not quite sure why you’ve gotten into the taxi at all. Throughout the journey the safety panel between you and the driver is closed, you can still see them to a degree and you can hear snippets of what they’re saying although it’s often distorted.

Throughout the journey you witness them reacting rationally to the world around, mostly. There will be odd outbursts and on occasion some particularly odd occurrence’s of behaviour but they are excused, after all, no one is perfect.

There will be the odd journey where you’ll notice the Taxi driver do something completely self destructive. They’ll turn across traffic, glide into the central reservation, speed into the back of another vehicle. A variety of things which ultimately result in you waking up, in your bed wondering if it was all a bad dream before you leave and get into yet another Taxi.

All of this occurs whilst you sit passively in the back. Unfazed, not calm but not at all distressed. Sometimes you’ll be staring out of the windows, wondering what the world outside of the Taxi feels like. Wondering it would feel like to have your feet solidly on the ground for more than the few moments it takes to get into the vehicle. Sometimes you’ll be observing the driver through the glass, distorted, dimmed but active and reacting to life in a way that you find most intriguing.

The most intriguing part, however and the one which often can bring about a very passive state of panic. Is that occasionally when you take a glance through the safety panel, you’ll realise that the driver is none other, than you.

The suffering which you experience is the suffering which you create. It is only when you realise that the chisel is in your hand that you can focus the destruction onto something else.