It is those wee small hours and I think of how I used to walk in them, oh so long ago it seems now. The wind lashes the rain against the wind and I am not sorry for not going out, the cold and wet wasn’t pleasant but I do miss something. I miss that black emptiness, that space of no thought, just moving, just walking and being out in the bleak, exposed to the elements. And seeing the sea at that time, too, when no one else was abroad. I had it to myself. Walking in the light, in the sun seems almost pedestrian by comparison. I will return to my night-time walking soon, when my legs are better (or at least the mystery has been solved so that I know what I am dealing with) and when Spring brings that special blue morning light.
Meanwhile the world becomes a madness. Will we all be at war soon? So much misery, pain, loss and disorder. Do we really really want it?
Forgive us, we know not what we do.
