At some point, the inside whorl became the outside whorl. When that was, it is hard to say. The recidivist talking about ourselves and the repetition in that comfort became cold comfort and then no comfort. There’s the opportunity for reinvention but it requires commitment, and a doggedness that many will no longer possess, worn down by the whorl of social media opinion and image and banalities of evil. Believe in the belief.

I just like the sound of the words as they crash against each other like dodgems it’s that simple


We drifted somewhere into the Heart

There are competing mastheads in the sea of light

It was both bright and it was full of sadness, yes?  The two of us sat there betting on the price of gold, would it rise?  You say it rises but I don’t believe you half the time.  Each of us had three computer monitors and access to a limited, and now dwindling, investment fund.  The passage to India was now navigated on a modem, then a fibreoptic and now perhaps just in the Cloud.  I didn’t stop for a Coca-Cola.  I didn’t halt when I pushed the button and pulled the plug and many other idioms.

There is a Peacocks in Valetta.
A Deichmann in East Ham.