| Waking |
| Sunday, 02 January 2011 | |
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months ago. you are sitting in the lobby of a hotel somewhere (not England), waiting for taxi... as unseen, to your left, a pair of receptionists make early morning wake-up calls - one after another, after another after another. The calls coming out of phase with each other "Good morning. This is your wake-up call.. it's 7am..", "Good morning. This is your wake-up call.. it's 7am, this is your wake-up call....", "Good morning. it's 7am.." And as you sit there you imagine all those sleepy hands reaching for phones, all those interrupted dreams, all those narratives (lives) starting over again after the interregnum of the night. *
afternoon of new years eve. city centre. light fading but not yet gone from the sky. a man and a woman in a blurred dance, she pulling cans of special brew from a polythene bag, opening them and pouring the contents out into the gutter, the guy staring at her in resigned show, at a metre's slow motion distance staggering slightly and watching his lifeblood glug out there into a set of mingling pools on the cracked paving. no one pays much attention.
On being asked if she would die for her country, she gives this very natural and easy going answer: "The incorruptibility of a person is one of the most important qualities. The only thing more important than patriotism is to be humane. Love of the motherland is vital to be a happy person." |
Notebook:
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