Tuesday, 23 September 2008


Going back to the house at Sandygate Lane.
In search of demons and strangeness and truths.

"Ce ne'st pas l'histoire qui se repete, c'est la geography qui ne bouge pas"
It's not history that repeats itself, it's geography that won't move.
(Graffiti, Geneva, 1982)

"Celui qui ne bouge pas ne sent pas ses chaƮnes"
He who doesn't move, doesn't feel his chains.
(Rosa Luxembourg)

Fourth post of the day. As you can tell, I am distracted.

I'm writing. For work. Serious stuff. Going Aaaargh! And reflecting on my nature.

Am I the same person I was when I was thirteen?

Yes... and no. I am his heir.

His executor. I get to unlock the treasure chest of everything that young man put away. I get to play with it, use it, bring it out into the light, fulfil his dreams.

Fulfil his dreams?

I get to decide which of his dreams were worth anything. For I hold the key to his dreams.

That's a responsible job, isn't it?

1 comment:

Perfect Virgo said...

Hmmm, fourth post of the day. If you are trying to cut down perhaps you could cut out the one with coffee mid morning? ;)

The question you posed set me thinking. We become physically new and different beings every six years as our skeletons apparently renew themselves on that cycle. However our minds stalwartly carry forward the heavy baggage of our pasts, complete in every detail.