Alchemist

One trope I find so amusing is best encapsulated by an opening of Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

Beyond the typical bildungsroman dolly shots following the main characters and their evolution, there’s a pivotal zoom-out overlooking from their father. The eyeglasses glare out and the father turns away as wind burrows the rest of the scene.

As I walk around my blocks sometimes I feel the same wind — not to romanticize myself as some wise council; all I know is that I’m walking toward the same pastures the same as any man. An in-betweener, in limbo at best.

Where a sandstone summit breaks to rise underneath while you continue. Up and up the jagged structure dwarfs the trees below. The elevation dries out the skin pallid and the eyes turn a little darker, then unintelligible.

One may inhabit the same sidewalk but we are clearly interacting from different worlds. Your body keeps fracturing and rebuilding until you don’t feel any remnants from the comforts before.

As a kid you’d think you’d always understand what makes things fun and you’d never blunt your expressions. But now decades later I can’t comprehend why anyone could play videogames — or that, I understand and wish I could forget and play again. I wish I could forget it’s a sandbox; I wish I could forget it adds up to nothing. But not really, actually. Maybe I’d wish to be proven wrong, if anything.

All I know is when we shake hands mine are cold and stone. I’m not sure when I morphed into an obsidial automaton, but maybe that’s the destination for everyone as we all handle the jagged ascent. Maybe if you line up all of the slopes you could make a new Antarctic pyramid.

Don’t worry — even if your core turns all molten you’ll get a new set of laughter everywhere you go. Everything is so beautiful and funny and a little bright when you survey from your personal summit stratosphere, and maybe you’ll see others waving from theirs.