A Long Way from the Beginning
A flapping curtain; outside, a street, one yellow lamp yawing behind leaves. I put down the book and try to breathe, a long way out from the beginning. To be here now, taut with judgements, is to be anywhere. But there are ceremonies to be gone through yet, observances and acts, portents of the sublime. Years have rolled up like blinds. In four hours time the shops will open, women will push prams along the street. The heat is on: I must remind myself that I am me. No point in counting minutes, declaiming my advantages - much larger powers of distortion are at work.
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