Saturday, 25 August 2012

Some mornings

You get up and everything seems normal then something happens to unbalance it all . . . perhaps not anything terrible really. Nothing shattering on an world crisis event scale: war, locust-invasion, apocalyptic earthquake, just something quietly worrying. Preconceptions you held shifting; a little piece of fondly-held past history, muddied. The same feeling I remember after reading Lord of the Flies when I was probably too young to understand it, but it left me with a grey mind shadow of some foreboding all the same.
We are all piranhas in our own shoals: keeping close together, the odd bit of paranoia creeping in every now and then ruffling the status quo. Have you ever watched piranhas? If these fish had shoulders they would be nervously looking over them, waiting for someone else's teeth to sink into their own flesh
I'm going to banish this feeling with housework and revert to the fairly relaxed mood I was in when putting the kettle on this morning. The sun is shining again; every plant in the garden is praying for the washing up water, and the shed must be cleared out: there are things eating it.
Whoever you are and I think you might cast an eye over this page at some point: I can out-weird you, don't you worry.

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