A random day

If you look up at the sky (during day). Would you see light, Or will you be blinded?

On a silent night, alone in a dimly lit room. The thought of fatherly love hits me as I am trespassing upon the land of everything that life can become. What kind of a father will I be? I have never thought of becoming a father before. Whenever we are faced with a hypothetical question, we usually consult our imagination. I envision myself having a child of about 6 or 7 years old. We will walk the road to the park near our house, and sit by a lake to watch the sunset. We will have an ice cream together, laughing as we comment on the flavour we’ve just savoured. I feel a sense of warmth, and joy, and… disconnection? I squint my eyes, trying to dive deeper into the emotional landscape that the imagination provokes. And all I can feel, is a vast distance between me and the child. I cannot feel related to the child. What is the secret ingredient that allows a father to be telepathically connected to his child?

I meet a handsome boy, not without charisma. He tells me that he is hurt when people are treated unfairly. I am sure he will love the elitist ball, Where masquerade is appropriated. People tell me the eyes are the window to the soul, let's just assume they are right. I ponder. Does his masquerade cover his eyes? He speaks of equality, But does it contain humanity? Or is it masked by a silk of privileges, with its bloody history? Full of pride, he invited people to his masquerade party, Where equality is the dress-code. What do mortals see of the equality chased after by a deity?