Matt and Dorothy exchange picture post
ER, THANKS FOR NOTHING
I like the fact that, literally, “The noughties” is a decade with a void at its centre.
On Good Friday 2008 I tried to tell people at a dinner in Chelsea an instructive moral fable involving a Japanese man and a cup that was too full of tea.
I don’t know if they got it. Or if I did.
Maybe nothing is a gift?
One from the pre-digital middle of the Noughties – can’t remember where exactly, of course. I liked disposable cameras and I still like the duds: grainy, black and not much to see, they free up the memory.
Shooter’s Hill, 2003, above the A2 and towards Kent, I guess. I harbour a belief that exhaust fumes intensify the light.
Memories become templates. Some things are mine to forget.
Round about Bologna, Aug. 2003… Strangers asleep on trains are mine to remember…
The problem when looking back is that there are at least as many things not done, as done.