My wife, my daughter, and I live on the bluff overlooking the river. The river is wide, and it is swarming with crocodiles and hippos. Courtesy of our unique ecosystem, they have developed a taste for each other’s flesh, and some days the banks are thick with pink froth. Sometimes the crocodiles are up, sometimes the hippos. It’s your standard vicious cycle.
There are inhabitants on the other side of the river. Some people say that we are the same, those of us on this side of the river and those on the other side, but the people making those statements all reside on this side of the river and tend to be members of fringe groups dedicated to inventing unsettling concepts. My brother is one of these people, and he once spent two years building a life-size mechanical model of a hippopotamus. It was confiscated the moment he walked it out of his domicile.
Having never met anyone from the other side, I cannot say I trust any assessment that extends beyond certain observable facts. For instance, I have observed that at night the other side of the river blazes with light, therefore I feel confident saying they have electricity. I also have deduced that they like to party, and not only on the weekends. Were there a central authority in charge of both sides of the river, I’d be the first in line to file a complaint about their music and lights (especially the strobes), as my family, due to the orientation of our domicile, is subjected to thunderous distraction at all hours.