My life has become a scrapyard. Junk lies scattered everywhere on land that has almost become infertile. The junk used to be precious antiques, cutting edge technology, and building blocks of greatness. The now wasted land used to be a golden sand beach where beauty and laughter would be more common than rare no matter how ugly things got. But something happened. The empire I was building exploded. Wrong turns were taken. Dead-end signs were mistaken for stop signs. Stop signs were mistaken for green lights. The real green lights were avoided. The applause became a distant ticking of a clock that got stuck on the same numbers.
The choice of course is: do I keep staring at the junkyard or do I clean up the waste, sort it out, grow some trees and build something with the usable parts that I can look behind the curtains with a sense of pride.
Pros: time is on my side.
Cons: time is meaningless.