Wednesday 3rd October


They met in a glass box like performance artists, naked & exposed
to the world. In the streets around them busy shoppers weaved in
precision choreography, luminous in motion, with withering expressions
in fading heat at summer’s end. No one knew the glass box existed as it
was hidden from view behind a tall wall. Extraordinary events were
taking place inside it only feet away from bustling streets yet no one
ever witnessed the broken people entering it who emerged like they’d been
given the gift of sight for the first time. Essex reclines under a clear
blue sky & I don’t have to catch a train & though sleep didn’t visit me
last night I’m happy to be alive to watch the sunrise, listening to
Stian Westerhus balances out my gospel inclinations.