Army of Ink Bags The Back Seat


army of ink bags the back seat

Bags the back seat .

I like it up the back, where I can see without them looking.  Explore heads and collars.   The strings of puppets.  Sit unfrozen in a seat unworn.  Read the whispers.  Tip toe away when I want to go home .

Footnote:   Bags the back seat is one of the strongest of the inks—a definite favorite and being a little socially phobic – one I always take with me when I go out.  She’s also symbolic of being quietly confident, solidly grounded, conscious in your own place – a source of your own light.  She also poses some interesting questions.  Why is it that the back seat is considered an inferior position?   The front row reserved for the special few? Society has always looked down upon the fringe dwellers, those who live in the back blocks, the loner, those who prefer the strange comfort of the dimmest of places.  There’s something unsettling, even threatening about the quiet observer—one who looks on in deep thought.  One who’s odd position can be unsettling to those who seek and perceive success as pushing your way to the front, working your way to the top, climbing the ladder or securing the lead role.  Position and  limelight can also be a hiding place for the insecure who mask inadequacies and true intentions with big entries and grand performances. Give me the back seat any day—if not, a seat on the isle so I at least have the freedom to leave.