There’s a hole in the fabric of our Universe.
Where some important bridge between us and Life should be, there is frequently Nothing.
This hole is seen when a man, speeding on the motorway with his wife and young child in the car, slams on brakes and rushes out to smash the windscreen of a car whose driver dared to hoot at him.
This hole is apparent when the spokesman for the Premier of the Zulu Kingdom feels justified in calling a man who filmed his entourage’s reckless speeding an ‘arrogant racist’.
This hole shows up when a father has an apoplectic fit over his young son seeing two people engaged in Pleasure.
This hole fills the vision when a child is raped and slaughtered.
This hole, this hole-clouds my mind at times, when I think that I am justified in dismissing other people as ‘mindless’.
This hole has formed the warp and weft of the angry violence around the globe.
Pretty nifty trick for a hole, no?
This hole is Goddess-shaped.
And the only thing I can say in our defence is at least some of us can see it’s a hole.