They say all the world's a stage and we are merely players...but, what if, the world were a drawing pad, and we were merely sketches?
Drawn by an artist (or perhaps more than one) who sketched out our lives, created us all as characters, then decided how our lives would be.
Would we be able to communicate with the artist(s)?
Would we be able to leap off the page(s) and find another sketch pad in which to live our lives?
Would we be at the mercy of their moods, would we suffer when they had a bad day, have a ball when they had a good one?
If they erased us, would that be it? Would we no longer exist?
What if they sketched a page with us on it, then screwed it up and threw it away? Would we be able to escape the page, or would we live out eternity as a trapped little drawing on a crumpled up page?
Created: Apr 14, 2014Shonam Document Media