On the evening of this longest day, 2014.
Everything still looks the same, but a line has been crossed.
Any change, any shift, will for a while be imperceptible. But things, as always happens, will gradually gather momentum until all is transformed.
“Time and tide wait for no man,” my father used to say.
They didn’t wait for him. He never attempted to outrun, or withstand. Once you reach a certain age, there is an air of inevitability about things. But there is no great hurry. We can live riding the rhythms of seasons, of tides.
The sun begins to set, it does not appear any different to the way it set last night, or the night before. But a person knows. That is our curse. But it is also a blessing.
Today has been a good day, shared with family and friends, and the things that count.
In the morning the rising sun will place another bead…
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Manchester: the sun was out; the sky blue; the trams were running again.
Hey Bobbie Gentry
where did you go?
There’s a guy over in Collyhurst
who’d really like to know.
It’s always when he’s on a bridge
that he feels so.
How often the imagination compensates for the limited world view of the young.
Town borders; forest edges; the last stop before the motorway slip road. These are the limits of their everyday world.
But then they are elevated high, and their vision expands, the world opens up and they feel themselves diminishing.
Look there, on the horizon: it’s the future; it’s the unknown.