It is in these in-between spaces - on the Tube, browsing supermarket aisles, idling in line - that I feel most like I'm really living. When time seems superfluous - I do nothing, accomplish nothing, yet time is being spent - lavished - on nothing at all. As if it would never run out; as if each second we were really counting down to eternity instead of an end.
***
Walking the streets of London as the sun looms ahead, in clear sky, above the brick-laid, metal-framed horizon; it shines pure, bright, unobscured - upon meeting its glare, one is dazzled -
the pavement crowds are transformed, resembling the shadow cast by a shoal of fish in murky-green seawater that betray their presence; a collective mass lying just beneath the water's surface, in wait only of oncoming danger - the other shadow.
***
I sometimes wonder that in determined, measured - conscious - effort to attain authentic expression, we may interchange authenticity and accuracy. And that fear returns: When the meaning, the moment, passes, what does else does it leave behind but empty shells, littered phrases?