I have Tracy Chapman’s lyrics singing in my head … It won’t do no good to call, the police, always come late, if they come at all.
No real idea why at this exact moment. As much as I love her music, I wanted to try to sleep. My brain has too much going on though I think …
I might just listen to music.
I have a first world problem today. I feel quite shackled; there is something unholy in removing a human’s tongue and searing their larynx.
I was talking at yoga tonight with some of the others about how fast and stressful life has become. A similar conversation to the one I had with my neighbour this morning. We have so much and it is never enough. Basic community and neighbourhood seems to have disappeared, substituted by online presence.
It doesn’t seem quite right, yet I am more comfortable in this dangerous space more often than in the flesh and blood of physical community. And I’m not even that technologically literate!
Meh … I need to write but cannot write what I want to.
On Sunday all of the roads near my home will be closed. The Festival of Steam will be taking over. A train festival. Before travelling by train through Europe I wasn’t a fan but since then, I love trains.
Not long until India.
I’m going to try to sleep.