I’ve abandoned the cliché of procrastination and its holding on to illusion. An anthology of future writings that never pens itself into being because of the fear. Of not making something of one’s life; of death;of living a lie. Expiry dates and must-haves. Yet these are all illusions also, passing passions. Perhaps all writing is a deflowering? We accumulate experiences, adding to our inner anthology, only to lay it bare and subject it to recollection. Where do all these layers lead to, once they have been peeled back?

We’re sat in the back garden, two pools of coffee laid out side by side in Le Creuset mugs. Their imprints- Olympic rings- are half-way marks, proof of parallel projects that have coincided in conversation around this sunlit table. Two for twenty, for millennials, for shared ideas. You’re twenty-three and bright, saying how much you look forward to being forty and the stretching wisdom of age.  We talk about ritual, only half-aware of these encircling spaces, table, mugs, spoons. The swings and roundabouts of our comfortable present. If there is a plan and the universe is unveiling as it should, then what of our belief in the human capacity for change? If every day is a blank slate over yesterday’s faded script, then can we really forge a new narrative?

The fragmentation of this modern life and its technicolour screenworlds could ennoble this vision for infinite change and self-transformation. In linear time, the points may have been plotted, but the routes can change. In lived time, the pack reshuffles and the free-fall play of events eludes, puzzles, pushes to the point of despair. Yet living is always forwards and promises a becoming: our awareness widens with each passing day and we know that within each snap in the aperture we will develop.

A grainy residue sits at the bottom of the past hour,drained. As you’re talking I can’t help but think about how much I want to record, write, express a response to this conversation as it is happening in real time. To capture it simultaneously would create a further rupture, deviation, deferral.




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