"As meaningful and fulfilling for as many people as possible..."

I've just moved my studio desk so it's centered with a window. I was a little askew, but not I'm right in the middle of the way I look out through the place where I work mostly. 

If I could, I would move the studio to the front room, where I could see people walk past all of the time. But that would distract me, I am easily distracted. Sometimes I need to just block out everything and get to work, which means shutting out the real world I can see and writing down the one inside of my mind. 

Is it all fiction? Are some fictions more concrete than others? How do we know what we know, and why do we make the decisions we make?

What if we woke up and began asking these questions? What if we decided to make a difference, subtracting out our own thoughts and concentrating on something abstract, something brutral, something concrete, something definite?

These are the first thoughts I write as I've moved my desk into the center of a window, looking to the east, helicopters falling from the sky again to the north, circular patterns of wonder to the south, and the west decidedly behind me. 

Let's go.