I can’t really explain it to you. It’s like I wake in the middle of the night and there’s this thing on the horizon in the looming orange of the city to the north. It gets cut in on by the trains that slide along the bank like the carriage cutting back to the beginning of a sentence leaving my words unformed around the stone in my stomach.
Yes, there’s times when time slips its pace leaving me breathless, and it’s certainly true that the things aren’t what we expected, what we were bought up to believe in any case. But I always had the idea that things as they are were just a temporary act in a much wider, and far more interesting production.
We can begin to agree on something else now perhaps but first a beautiful shape can only coalesce around the willingness of the many, as polyps invisibly create reefs in the wider sea.
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