(no subject)
Escape: we used to wait for life to come uneasily, now it flies past. Nothing in Westminster becomes me like the leaving of it, but in becoming someone who can't escape it, must individuality be lost? Remembrance of friends past, language living beyond us. Who knows where the years go, how the plans appear? A bracing recovery, amidst a scrabble to find who I am and want. Dè a-nis?