Recently I’ve found myself wandering the streets of Wokingham, where I spent my years of 6 to 13, in daytime trance. I know every road very well. Even the flagstones are brightly limned as I pace through this Elizabethan market town.
Odd how I know each pore in the face of a place where I spent just 7 years, and yet I can get lost in Joburg, where I’ve been for much longer. It’s almost like my spirit still haunts that little English town. I could draw you a map.
But I won’t do that – there is some reason for my temporary dislocation in time and space, and I expect I’ll learn what it is shortly. In the meantime, I’m having to hold myself down from yelling and screaming at the idiotic culture I find myself embedded in – a culture peopled by sleepwalkers, none of whom appear to have had any education at all. I would have been considered only partially educated, with my degree in Physics and Astronomy, by a previous generation. And yet the generation after me apparently has never been taught to read. This sounds like a recipe for despair, but in me it translates to rage. The bloody zombies, marching over the cliff edge…
Wishing you all a blessed White Water or Rushing Dark Water, depending upon your hemisphere.
Oh, and go listen to the action from the G20 on Rustbelt Radio, if you’ve got a moment.