There are two conversations going on simultaneously.
One is about righting the ship. Getting things back on track. Patching up the egg and piecing it back together. Pumping up a new bubble.
The other is about kissing the ship goodbye. Digging up the track and using the steel for something else. Cleaning up the eggshells and dripping yolk and dreaming up a completely new egg. Inventing an unimagined world without bubbles.
We are suspended between the two.