I don’t think about work when I’m not there. at the moment I’m struggling to figure out if this is because I am somehow capable of respecting my time and space in this sole domain of my being and doing or, rather, if I am closer to what I think than I am the way that others see me. I am rational enough to recognise that the reflection I cast is not the same I see in the mirror. but I don’t think about work once I’ve closed the lid and maybe it’s because I still feel short term. the future is always tomorrow and though I know I’ll be there I am ashamed to confess I still hold out for something else, despite the love and luck in which I’m spoiled. on the horizon clouds might part but it’s still the same telescope and half the world is still engulfed in flames as their inferno fuels the sunshine and the shopping malls for the rest of us.
I watch the funeral pyre grow from my phone.
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