Vintage

Images from Sunday that suggest a hole in time, another place: reminding myself that there is only here and now and yet in some way also not only this time, this place, the fear and desolation of this chill, flickering Autumn day, this empty ringing in my ears, this flinching and turning away, this mind that wants to be, to be, but not to be this, or thus, or something. Ah, something. Something could, I guess, be a tent pitched next to St Paul's in the City of London financial district. For now, I guess, this elderly person is watching, trying to open my heart and stretch it across the gap between the personal and the collective. Open-heartedness is difficult in a society where sheer survival often feels like it depends on quite the opposite. Action is difficult in a life requiring long hours of physical immobility and extremely restricted thought.