I feel generally sad at the moment.

It is only six in the morning, and I’m writing this on paper.  I don’t usually type straight into the blog.

I was going to, this morning, but I’ve switched the beast on and it is so bright, that screen.

I have opened the curtains to let some of that early-morning light in – I usually have them closed to stop light reflecting from the screen – as an effort to –

I had something there about the contrast between the ambient light and the blazing screen.

As usual, I have too much to say all at once, and it complicates my sentences – and I split one just above – I knew it was wrong, part of it referring to the idea that had gone – even before – and part to where I currently was.

I told myself to let that complicated sentence stand – but here I am – it is a quarter past one in the afternoon, and I am typing this up – and things change again.

And I don’t necessarily keep what I had.

I have something there on the handwritten sheet – that the imperfect often says it better –

I could also assert that perfection only exists as a – point over there – towards which we could strive – but never reach, I would argue.

After a conversation, I have seen that I need to look more widely for my news – I have a favourite newspaper, but I need to keep an eye on news from other sources.


I am used to these shifting sands that make definition difficult.

There are so many nuances to a question that – it would be impossible to cover every base, but a necessity to set some – bases – I will not have goals – to set some places where certain values – yes – values – can be attached.  Just to hold something there for long enough that there can be a discussion.

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