the shock that hits first. Even as I was in mid-air and about to land, I knew I had stepped on ice and was upset that it was lurking within the mud and not on the path that was fast coming up to greet my shoulder
, the markings on the 2021 road map remain faintly drawn and the stop-offs and points of interest fail to jump out with conviction. The motivation for moving forwards is stunted which allows stomach stress to rocket up the spine and smack into the back of the mind.
Mortality haunts human life. It swirls around and imbues us all. We instinctively know the visual language of the grim reaper’s skeletal frame in that dark hooded cape and Jolly Roger’s grinning pirate flag telling onlookers; ‘this is what we’ll do with you’.
This same vile attitude was expressed by Europeans while physically staking land claims across North America while erasing any moral issues by convincing themselves that the native tribes were itinerant wanderers without desire or need to settle.
We edge or way out of lockdown, begin our hitherto normal activities and our de facto abuse of the planet starts again. The return to normality is epitomised by ugly sounds and visions of freight clattering its hot smoky routes across the world and people yearn to press carbonic footprints in their pursuit of leisure.
In the wake of the George Floyd killing in Minneapolis, another friend posted their thoughts. As this person has many Facebook groupies I usually desist from commenting because, probably out of jealousy of their popularity, I prefer being on the fringe rather than among their gaggle of toadies.
I’m strapped in this very confined metaphor, struggling to make it work and outside it is just this corner-less plate of zeros. Except, as I said, the stick-on stars but, and I don’t say this lightly, they’re nobody’s friend. Certainly neither yours nor mine.