Money doesn’t talk – it screams. It sits upon the periphery, dancing into one’s eye line when needs demand, offering lifelines for a price.
As an element in itself, money doesn’t always deliver quality – nor does ever promise it – but since when has quality ever been money’s command.
In times of crisis, money’s haunting scream envelopes all, echoing loudest where it is rarely present. Indeed, the arenas where money is scarce tend to whimper longingly – rarely is that solemn ever tempered.
As the whimpering becomes more telling, money becomes a saviour – temporary of course – yet one often wonders if the short term price is worth the long term cost.
And when money takes complete command, it plays games with its suitor.
Musical chairs is a crude example. When children play, the rush for a seat plays out somewhat evenly, as children shove playfully through the pack.
When adults play, even hands fall away from sight and as the music stops, those with larger accounts take to the chair, serenely unchallenged. This is not a new idea – certainly not fair, but not new.
Others who refuse to play by any rules, simply take their toys and go home. Suddenly, the games stop.
And thus, we nod to seats filled in the past week; whereas in the west, some were simply removed from the game.
Now the dance gets ever more frantic as the choices narrow – some already are throwing their hands into the air in resignation, knowing inside their time will never arrive.
Dreams once bright, now sit in damp solitude, fostering private grievances to be taken elsewhere.
The game is a cruel one and rarely fair and some are only now coming to understand the harsh features of altitude.
Perhaps it is the game that needs to change after all.
