Looking for traces of the human in the rubbish we leave behind. Seeking answers in the rising tide of waste, industrial and personal. Turning in on one's self as a means of escape from the crushing realities of the day. Further atomised, drifting further from the idea of a homo sapiens community, consuming more, yet atrophying from the fodder on offer. STOP.
I've been here before. This territory is well charted.
And then the peaceful passages in between the glorious chaos.
Glorious and maddening.
Sad and magnificent.
And then the numbing ceases.
Nature in all its perfect flaws,
Watching winter wane.
Animals, lacking that neurosis
Existing without question.
I sip a pint of lager and watch purse mouthed parents wearily plod out of empty restaurants, the weight of expectation and aspiration on their brows. I feel lucky...or better, fortunate. I phone Dave and he is free of cancer, which I am mortally grateful for. Another day of small and important mercies