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What’s the price of peace?
I don’t care what it costs, I just want some
We live in a world where almost everything is accessible. Almost everything can be bought, ordered, delivered, shipped, subscribed to, or summoned with the tap of a button.
From fruits that aren’t even in season to flowers from another city, clothes you saw on someone on the other side of the world, from rare gems and antiques to even nuclear bombs.
There are stores for almost every possible want. There are apps for convenience, websites for desire, subscriptions for entertainment, deliveries for food. Almost anything you can demand, someone, somewhere, will find a way to supply.
So I have a very simple request.
Can somebody please sell me a bottle of peace?
I am serious. I don’t want scented candles, spa days, a ten-minute meditation app, or someone telling me to take a deep breath and “be present.”
I want the actual thing. A bottle of peace. Something I can open when my brain refuses to shut up. Something I can take a sip of when I have spent three hours overthinking one conversation from five years ago. Something that lets me work without my brain constantly jumping from one thought to another, worrying about ten…
