Category: Featured Blog

Just before Christmas, I met a young man named Mitch. He was living on the streets of Sydney. My girlfriend and I almost walked by him as many people do. Choosing not to see someone because it’s somehow uncomfortable. Acknowledging the homeless also acknowledges that you are doing nothing to help them. The city was filled with Christmas shoppers and the homeless are an unwanted obstacle in the path of those fulfilling their consumer missions. Ironic, people so obsessed with securing gifts for others because society says this is the time to give, yet ignoring those in obvious need right before them.

Something about Mitch made my girlfriend stop. Perhaps it was how young he looked. I was making pace for the station, ready for the trip home when I noticed she was no longer walking next to me. I took a few steps back to join them. We introduced ourselves and my girlfriend asked Mitch if he would mind sharing why he was living on the street. At 21, Mitch is frank and clear-eyed, drug-free apart from a smoking habit. I don’t think it’s fair to share the details of his life without his permission, suffice it to say his story was one of misfortune, abandonment and ill-treatment. He expressed a great desire not to be living on the street. He shared his plans to get an apartment of his own. He freely admitted life had put him in situations that had led to bad choices, choices that made it more difficult now to find work and housing. Waiting for social housing was likely to be long and fruitless, other services only solve immediate problems, like a charity food voucher for $15 that might get him a meal once a month.

As we spoke, standing to one side of a busy Martin Place, a woman walked right between us, completely disregarding our conversation and Mitch’s presence, her shopping bags nearly knocking us over. We all had to take a step back and collectively laughed in disbelief. But part of me wondered if I was any better than the bustling intruder. I’ve occasionally bought meals for people living in the streets, or given money, but like many of us, I’ve also found it easier sometimes to walk by. I like to think I’m a little better as a human being because I see these people, even if I feel powerless to help.

Mitch said he didn’t want to say, ‘See you next time’, because next time we come to Martin Place he didn’t want to be living there. He wanted to take his social security and start paying rent. From there he hoped he could get work. We asked if there was anything we could do now to help him. He simply said a hot meal would be nice.

Mitch could have turned his life into a sob-story. For various reasons, he’d been rejected by his family and society, but he expressed a determination to make something of his life. He possessed a strong sense of self-determination. He took responsibility for the poor choices he’d made, despite many of them being made as a result of even poorer situations outside of his control.

We gave Mitch some money to get some food and he thanked us for taking the time to stop and have a conversation. He thanked us for listening and for seeing him. We all agreed we didn’t want to see him next time we might pass through Martin Place. Hopefully, because he will have his own place and maybe even a job. I’d hate for him to become a long-term member of the invisible homeless, ignored by thousands every day, too busy with our own lives to stop and help. But Mitch not being on the street doesn’t change the fact that others will be and as long as there are people on the street can we honestly say we live in a fair and compassionate society? More likely we are living in an age of misaligned priorities. We look beyond the obvious, we relegate problems like homelessness to our peripheral vision, choosing not to see because it has become an issue that is hard to change. The reality is though that change is just as much an act of will as keeping things the same.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

A rare evening out with friends recently was interrupted by a request for UberDad services. I explained to my rarely seen friends how the high-tech system works. Teen offspring sends a text to book UberDad to drive teen offspring to a movie. UberDad interrupts rare night out with friends to collect teen offspring and friend. UberDad reminds teen offspring of the essentials; shoes, jacket, keys, wallet, phone. UberDad then delivers teen offspring and friend to cinema and hands over money for movie tickets + cash for the candy bar. For some reason, it costs more to produce a box of popcorn and a wax cup full of soft drink than it does to make a Hollywood blockbuster. It’s also highly likely the teen staff members manning the cinema candy bar and box office have been delivered to work via their UberParents.

Teen offspring and friend watch the movie while I return to hang out with my friends and wait for the inevitable text, booking me for the ride home. Unlike other parts of the share economy, UberParenting is a one-way sharing experience that costs the driver at various points in the journey. Price surging can occur at any stage and drivers should be particularly careful of teen offspring’s destinations as they can directly affect the contents of an UberParents wallet.

Driving teen offspring safely from experience to experience is not unlike other aspects of parenting. What we give and what we get back is not measured in dollars. Teen offspring with UberParents are probably lucky we love ‘em. An understanding some teen offspring may well grasp, but it’s much more likely to be something they won’t appreciate until they are literally in the driver’s seat, delivering their own loved ones from place to place. That’s unconditional parental love for you – it’s a seed you plant for a flower you may never see bloom – regardless you must plant it.

* Disclaimer – The author has no association with Uber but does have a long history as a parent taxi. Driving services are limited to family and close friends and as indicated in the story are provided for no financial gain and may actually incur a financial loss. Karma is perhaps a more appropriate measure of these actions, however, humility prevents the author from clarifying further on this point.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

My psyche has been pummelled by decades of cross-genre input and frankly, I like what the wash and spin cycle of my brain does with it all. The trick is getting readers to understand what they are in for when they read my work. It’s a trick I haven’t learned particularly well, but I’m well-adjusted to going with the creative outpouring. It’s hardly surprising that after a lifetime of perceptions that one becomes attuned to filtering information in certain ways. I grew up watching a lot of TV. Pretty much anything science fiction, British comedy, American 70s and 80s sitcoms, Austrian comedy and drama, classic Hollywood Saturday afternoon movies and Sunday night indie films. Then there were video games, books of course, and an early exposure to theatre. Also, naturally, there was and still is the significant influence of the people around me, my environment and socio-economic situation. It’s no wonder my fiction writing is a potpourri of all these influences.

Writing is no different to any other form of interaction with the world. My mind filters information according to all the other information that has gone through it previously. Sometimes what comes out is the result of patterned responses and other times there are surprises. But fundamentally the soupy conglomeration of my experience directs my thoughts.

We all have our influences, we all have our life experiences that affect the way we see the world, the way we interact, the way we create, the way we make decisions. I take pleasure in observing the differences between the multitude of sources that alter my perception. Sometimes observation gives me the opportunity to step away from my own skewed view and other times the desire to revel in it becomes consuming.

When you hold your lens to the world, do you consider how it affects what you see?

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

I haven’t posted in a while and there is a good reason. Actually, it’s not a good reason it’s a bad reason. A very bad and sorry excuse for a reason. I’ve written previously about the effects of the 24/7 news cycle on my psyche. I could blame being too busy with work, or domestic responsibilities as reasons for me not putting pen to paper, or in my case fingers to keyboard. But the fact is I’ve been consumed by a constant need to update myself with fear, distrust, loathing and the completely mundane. My ability for clear thought has become fractured and one of the main tools I rely on to diffuse this destructive force, writing, started to become difficult to access.


So, this post is a declaration to you and to myself, that I am taking steps to combat the modern scourge that plagues our lives. For me it chiefly takes the form of constantly reading the news, for you it might be a game, checking email or social media. I’m probably guilty of all of them.

The reality is if the world goes to crap it’s not going to make any difference if I read about it on my smartphone numerous times a day. While I feel powerless in the face of global events, watching helplessly as world leaders play chicken with our collective future, what I have at my disposal is the ability to express ideas, to shape words into some form of meaning that hopefully resonates with others. This process makes me feel better. While I’m constantly downloading news I’m not putting anything positive back into the world. My thoughts and energies are being disrupted, confused, fragmented.


A juicy conspiracy theory can readily be drawn. A fragmented mind is easier to overcome than one that’s clear and focused. Just why are we being bombarded with information if not to confuse and distract us from making objections to those with unsavory agendas?


To help me combat fragmentation I’m starting out with a couple of lists. I have a ‘To Do’ and a ‘Not To Do’ list. They will probably change, but you have to start somewhere.

Not to do

  • No tech in my bedroom. I have an alarm clock. That’s all I need
  • If sleep is interrupted, NO screens in the middle of the night.
  • Don’t look at my phone without purpose
  • No checking email outside of work hours
  • No social media outside of scheduled times

To do

  • Read or write at night when I can’t sleep
  • Allocate time for constructive social media interaction
  • Only look at my phone when it rings
  • Write every day
  • Read every day
  • Meditate every day
  • Exercise every day
  • Watch or listen to news once a day only

This is my approach to the pervasive streams of information pouring into our lives with unparalleled speed and quantity. What’s yours?

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere
See also Browser Beware and The Great Disruptor.

For David and Adam

When I was 15, in January 1983, David Owens, Adam Garnett and I somehow convinced our parents it was a good idea to let us ride our bikes from North Ryde to Terrigal on the Central Coast for a week’s camping trip.

We met at 4 am on the corner of Twin and Badajoz Roads. There were a few parents in pyjamas and bathrobes checking we had everything and ensuring our commitment to safety. We tore ourselves away as quickly as possible, minimising hugs and kisses. Grateful they cared enough to get up at 4 am to see us off, but determined to get away before being too embarrassed, before the affection that existed between us and our families was exposed to each other. As though familial bonds could somehow make us appear weaker in the eyes of our friends when the truth was they had the opposite effect.

We made our way towards the highway. Adam joked about the full breakfast his mum had made him eat despite him not feeling hungry. The boys set a cracking pace and it was clear I was going to struggle to keep up. The idea of the bike ride had been romanticised in my mind, a boy’s own adventure. The reality was more arduous. Both David and Adam had done some training or perhaps they’d just used their bikes more than I did. I figured my general riding around would be enough preparation, but it wasn’t. Within a few minutes of setting off my legs ached and my lungs fought to catch my breath. The boys adjusted their speed to make sure we stayed together, but they kept me at the edge of my ability, pushing to keep us on schedule, ever encouraging to ensure I wouldn’t give up or burn out.

Although I was lagging I wasn’t the first to pop. When we hit the 3M building at St Ives and joined the Pacific Highway, Adam stopped us and wretched his guts up. ‘Are you ok mate? Should we go back?’ I said, concerned about Adam, but wondering to myself how I was going to make it through the next few hours feeling spent from the first 20 minutes. ‘No’, Adam said as he wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘It’s just the bacon and eggs my mum made me eat before we left’. He took a few sips of water. ‘I told her there was no point! I’ll be right now. Just had to get that out.’ ‘Are you sure?’ David asked. ‘We’re not stopping,’ Adam replied. David took a good look at Adam. We deferred to David for all things concerning health and safety and the outdoors. If he said ok, it meant he’d evaluated it, assessed it fully. ‘Ok, let’s go, but you have to tell us if you feel sick again.

On we pushed. As the morning broke the traffic grew. It slowed us down, allowing me to keep up. We hit a steady rhythm, mostly keeping to the road but occasionally moving to the footpath as our parents had asked. Sticking to the footpath was never an agreement we were going to keep. It seemed more dangerous to dodge cars reversing out of their driveways than it was to ride close to the kerb. We’d said what we had to say to convince our parents. We would honour that agreement as best we could but we wouldn’t do it blindly.

When we hit Hornsby so did the semi-trailers. The multitude of trucks hadn’t been part of our plan. There was no footpath at this stage and we had to weave our way around potholes on the shoulder of the road, keeping an eye on the trucks and never straying into their lanes. We made a pact not to tell our parents how dangerous it was. We couldn’t have them thinking they were right.

Bikes weren’t allowed on the freeway so our plan was to ride to the Hawkesbury River station, catch the train to Gosford and then ride the last leg from there.

It’s a fast and winding road from the Highway down to Hawkesbury River. The speed caught me a little by surprise. The boys both tore off ahead and I didn’t blame them. We had agreed to meet at the bottom. We all tore down that road as fast as we wanted, as fast as our bikes could go or we dared let them. It was both terrifying and totally exhilarating. I don’t think I’ve ever moved as fast on a bike, never felt as blissfully free as I glided through that crisp morning air. It was all inertia. I couldn’t peddle fast enough to keep up with the speed of my wheels so I just cruised, keeping an eye on the road for holes or bumps, my body moving left and right in harmony with the bends. I half expected to see David or Adam flung to the side of the road. As fast as I was going I knew they were going faster.

We all made it safely to the bottom, excited and elated, our exhaustion evaporated in the rush of adrenalin. Though it was a welcome relief to avoid the freeway and catch the train across the Hawkesbury River into Gosford, we also felt a little cheated. After our downhill conquest, we were ready to take on the world. The freeway would have been an easy challenge for us.

The final leg to Terrigal was an easy pace compared to our cracking speed at 4 am. We cruised into the camping ground around 9 am, my older brother waiting with a carload of our gear. What had been a 5-hour adventure for us had been an easy 1-hour drive for him. We were all happy to have someone there, waiting to acknowledge our achievement.

We made camp, sorted out provisions, appeased the fretful parents with a phone call and made for the beach. Some friends joined us a day or two later and we spent the week cycling to the beach and back, making rudimentary teenage meals, talking into the night, unconsciously cementing our friendships.

At the end of the week, we readied ourselves for the trip home only to discover a train strike meant we couldn’t ride home. Parents were called and lifts organised. I was a little relieved not to make the trip back on the bike. It would have been one last adventure, but exactly how we were going to make it back up that giant hill, from the Hawkesbury to the Highway, none of us had planned. We were probably all secretly relieved the brilliant week away was ending with an easy drive home. In my case, it was a short drive to join the rest of my family for another week’s holiday by the beach, where I would be grateful for a real bed and home-cooked meals.

Both David and Adam are gone now. David was 33 and taken too early by leukaemia, and just last week, Adam unexpectedly died at the age of 49. Only my memories remain of that handful of hours we challenged ourselves by racing off in the early hours of the morning. Only in my mind is the laughing, the screams of joy, the quiet moments and raucous exchanges. We shared something intangible with our experience together, something that remains with me, now my friends are gone, something that will always travel with me and bubble to the surface when I need it most.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

To Cli-Fi or not to Cli-Fi, that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous science fiction or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them?

Yes, a somewhat bastardised version of Shakespeare’s famous soliloquy. Yet if you take a moment to deconstruct it, the answer to why many authors are picking up and running with the Cli-Fi mantra is apparent.

Cli-Fi was coined by journalist Dan Bloom and he champions the propagation of the term through, an academic and literary Facebook group – Cli-Fi, Climate Change & Literary Criticism, and other social media channels.

It is well established that science fiction offers authors and readers the opportunity to enter worlds of possibility. Science fiction has never been restricted by the word ‘science’. On the contrary, science fiction explores morality, social constructs and the edges of human behaviour. It is no surprise then, as we face climate change, the greatest dilemma to have challenged our species, that creative minds would act to both express their dismay but also to offer hope and possibility beyond what is considered in the media or around the water cooler.

I started writing my novel ROAD TO NOWHERE in 1996 as a reaction to stories of global warming in the news. It struck me as alarming then, that as a species we were being very slow to act. It alarms me even more now. I remember learning about greenhouse gasses in primary school and being taught about the life cycle of the sun and what life would be like for people at its different stages. These early encounters with popular science stayed firm in my mind and somehow colluded with many other ideas to form this book.

ROAD TO NOWHERE doesn’t sit easily within the Sci-Fi genre. It’s part thriller, conspiracy, satire, philosophical exploration and there is even a touch of romance. There is sex in there too, because for many people sex and desire are overpowering forces often never understood or controlled.

Cli-Fi brings all the competing genres within my book together and sums up what it is about. For me, that is an exploration of the fundamental duality of our species. Our determined headlong drive into self-destruction polarised by an opposing instinct for self-preservation and survival.

By exploring climate change in fiction, authors can take fellow human beings through an experience they have not considered. Isn’t that the function of all fiction?

By coining the term Cli-Fi, Dan Bloom brings works together that exist across the world of literary fiction. The aim is simple. We want to save the planet and we want to save our species and we want to save those we love and we want to save ourselves. It can feel powerless when observing history unfold, watching the proverbial train wreck before your eyes with no means in your power to change it.

Cli-Fi gives us that means. With the feeling of powerlessness, the ability to share ideas becomes essential. Words change minds and minds change reality.

As a writer, there are many stories I want to explore, but for the moment I can’t look away from the big glob of murky uncertainty before me. I must deconstruct it, I must make sense of what we are collectively doing. Is it too much to hope that along the way, I and other authors, might bring a few readers along with us? The conceit of the writer is all I can offer. At the very least if you don’t change your mind I hope I entertain you to the end. I suddenly feel like one of the members of the quartet on the Titanic, offering a melodic knowing tune as the boat sinks into the deathly cold waters. Regardless I will continue to Cli-Fi because frankly, I don’t know what else I can do.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

There are a ton of things going on in the world that bother me. They range from mildly inconvenient intrusions into my daily life to global demigods that threaten the end of our existence. The everyday intrusions I’m learning to deal with. What’s harder is the wave of moderate to high, national and global issues that inundate my mind at the speed of light. Literally, light carrying information from the multitude of screens I’ve allowed to infiltrate my existence directly into my thought stream. I’m angry with many things people do in my world. Rather than list them all, I can sum them up into two very simple actions. 1. People treating others without compassion. 2. People treating their world with contempt.

Within this constant download of outrage from social media and the 24/7 news cycle, there is one person in the world who is damaging us all by relentlessly surfing the waves of light we recklessly allow to flow into our view. I’m angry with the world for not only allowing it but for propagating it. I don’t even want to use his name because that’s what he wants. Instead, I’m going to refer to him as The Great Disruptor.

The Great Disruptor, via traditional and social media, is destroying our thought patterns. His every move, great or small, is reported in a way that no other world leader has been subject to and the constant appearance of stories related to him, the constant disruption is corrupting normal thought processes. It’s very important to respond appropriately to the outrageousness of his actions, but equally, it’s important to remove him from our stream of consciousness as a constant form of unpredictable energy. The Great Disruptor needs to be compartmentalised. His intrusion into our consciousness should not be at the expense of caring about other people or self-nurturing. The Great Disruptor aims to leverage our fear as he aims to validate his self-worth by the accumulation of wealth and power.

By disrupting our thoughts, by intruding into our conversations, by infiltrating our social media feeds as well as our mental processes he is taking our thoughts away from where they can do the most good. He is undermining our ability and our right to create a sense of self-security.

I like to think I have a strong will, but I’ll admit I’ve been mentally fractious since The Great Disruptor came to prominence. My peace of mind is slowly and surely being eroded. But now that I can see the negative influence of the constant news stream I can take steps to disrupt the Great Disruptor. For me, this is taking the form of reading less news and reconnecting with what’s happening in the immediate world around me. I’m turning off the internet and phone for a few hours every day and when they are back on engaging with them less.

We can and should have our moments of protest. They are vital. Our voices can and will change things. But along the way, it’s essential to also protect our thoughts. To allow ourselves the time and space to evaluate and to contemplate. We can grow meaning in our lives and hold true to what is of real value when we tune out the noise. And right now, The Great Disruptor is simply the noisiest child in the room. We can’t allow his cries for attention to be our undoing.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

I swear, I turned my computer on to do some work. There was this thing I really wanted to get out of the way before the day became too crazy and I got pulled in different directions. It’s a delicate balance between working for money, doing things for family, pro-bono/volunteer work and last, but what should not be least, writing a new book.

When the computer turns on I find myself automatically opening a web browser without thinking. The routine starts. I check the news, I check social media, I pay some bills, I check email, I check book sales, I check email again, I go back to social media, I see lots of animals doing strange things but none as strange as wasting the precious time I’m wasting. Finally, I circle back to the news and wonder what it was I wanted to get done when I turned the computer on in the first place.

I look at the time and realise I need to move. I have to get ready. I have to make the lunches; I have to encourage (yell at) the household to be ready on time. If I didn’t encourage (yell) then they wouldn’t get to school on time. If they are late then I am late. But that’s not the point. What was the point? The point gets lost because of all the browsing and checking and looking at things I really don’t need to see right now. There was a job to do, a file to fix, something that needed sending to someone but it’s lost now in the pattern of online irrelevance.

I shut down the browser, I close the email and I make a firm decision to break the pattern. Patters are easily created without any thought. They take hold of you without your awareness. But this one I can see now. So the plan is to hold onto the idea that needs to be recorded, the work that should be completed, to not open that browser or email as a casual part of the computer’s start-up routine. My new mantra; I will be conscious of my actions, I will do what I want first and take control of the internet and not allow it to draw me into unknown distracting and often meaningless places.

I feel this may not be the best way to write about this subject, but my mind is too disrupted to think of a better way. There are issues that need to be teased out and explored. What is this constant interruption doing to my thought processes, what is it doing to my fellow human beings? Think of the children? For now, all I can do is offer this fragmented peek through the window. With time and awareness perhaps it will be possible to master what is currently enslaving me and what, I suspect, holds many of us in its grasp.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

When I saw this photo of my friend Hector and his mother Irma I couldn’t help but burst into a broad smile. Knowing them as I do and having stood around the Boudha Stupa myself, I had a strong visceral sense of the moment, of the feeling in the air, of what would be passing between these two.

I remember when Hector first went to Nepal in 2008. We were in regular contact over what became a life changing trip for him. What evolved from those experiences has become life changing for many including myself. One individual who was seeking to see reality, seeking to see through the multiple social constructs of life, discovered compassion for others as a key means to cut through his own challenges. And he hasn’t stopped taking people along on that journey. He tirelessly points out for others what has become a clear path for himself, with a desire not to leave anyone behind.

Now 8 years later and Hector is back in Nepal. This time he has brought along his mother and other members of his immediate family. What an amazing moment to stand and look out at the palpable history of Kathmandu, the history of spiritual exploration and share it with someone you have explored life with so inextricably.

While all photos capture a moment, this one for me, captures how powerful some moments can be. I think of the many lives Hector has affected and how that has flowed from simple moments of understanding. And I’ve been thinking about other people in my life who have taken the time to share and give. What flows from all moments is an opportunity. You can take a negative and push that out into the world, or you can see a better way and bring people along with you, invite them to see a different perspective.

I’m very proud of my friend Hector and what has grown from his moments of insight. Equally I’m grateful to the many people like him in my life that share their time, ideas and energy. Moments are wonderfully complex, intangible and fleeting things, but they are where we exist. Seeing Hector and Irma exist in this moment is a joy and I can’t wait to see what flows from it.

Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere

Photo: Gina De La Chesnaye

Multiple choice questions imply that you actually have some choice with your answer. This may well be true if you are taking a multiple choice quiz, survey or test of some kind. But have you ever stopped to consider how your answers to everyday questions might also be multiple choice?


If you have been raised in any contemporary social construct, and let’s face it, that’s pretty much all of us expect perhaps Tarzan, then the chances are that much of what you think, feel and say is chosen from a small collection of predefined answers. And, yes Tarzan was still raised within a social construct, just a vastly different one to our idea of civilisation. It’s that contrast that makes Burroughs’ story a classic tale. How central is your identity to your social construct? How aware are you of how your social construct influences your choice of words and more importantly your decisions?


Examining your responses to questions is a good way to find out. You may find that different topics will have their own set of pre-defined answers. Being asked something simple such as, ‘How are you?’ will illicit a response from you such as, ‘Good’, ‘well’, ‘Fine’, ‘Okay’ or possibly ‘not so good’, ‘bad’, ‘unwell’ etc. You don’t have to think too hard to find an answer. There is a list of responses for you to choose from.


This may seem trivial to you, obvious in a way, however if you apply this to every conversation you have you can begin to unlock just how much you are thinking and how much you are relying on multiple choice answers.


To highlight an extreme, if someone for example asked ‘Will you marry me?’ you might reply ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘let me think about that’. Thinking outside the multiple choice answers you may consider if marriage is actually something you want or is it something society wants you to do. Likewise, when considering a career or other choice that affect how you will spend your life on the planet many assumptions are made. These assumptions all fall between a fairly narrow range of multiple choice ideas. How many of them are actually derived from independent thought?


Need more evidence? I’m not big on traditional research but I am good at drawing highly subjective conclusions from observing others and being conscious of my own behaviour. What I’ve noticed is in most conversations people rely on common phrases to supply or form the basis of their answers. Here are a few you may have used:

If I had a dollar every time someone asked me that, the ball's in your court, best of both worlds, it’s a piece of cake, you've bitten off more than you can chew, it won’t cost you an arm and a leg, back to square one, a blessing in disguise, don't put all your eggs in one basket, between a rock and a hard place, hate to burst your bubble, let me give you the heads up, that’s really below the belt, it’s not my cup of tea, that's the last straw etc etc etc. 

The list goes on and on and while some of the above might not be familiar to you, every culture has its own set of stock answers that we all draw upon to form our responses to situations.


Why am I so hung up on phrases and multiple choice answers? Because while you think you are thinking you are not actually thinking. They may appear benign, but multiple choice answers reinforce the social construct. If you truly examine your responses to questions and take time to consider answers that are meaningful to you then you may well find answers you didn’t realise existed. Perhaps you will then be thinking outside your own experience, outside your own conditioning.


Be careful, anything could happen.


Evan Shapiro
Author – Road To Nowhere