A wave passes across the table. More accurately, the various things on my table – the latest to have been deposited there – together adopt the pose of a crashing wave. The piles of books are partly obscured – swept over by a red hydration sack, which pushes bits of paper up into the froth of a breaking wave, but in this case inexplicably jagged. Very appropriate that the most conspicuous of these crystaline shards is a water bill. It looms over an orange art theoretical text on the ‘situation’. Another shard suggests that I ‘Read our Annual Report’. It is in soft, environmentally sound green. I am also aware that things are slipping into chaos. The floor needs to be swept. The dishes need to be done. I have a pile of dirty washing in the washing machine. I have absolutely no plans whatsoever. Any moment is as good and as indifferent as any other. Perhaps I should go for a walk down to the ocean. It is cold enough tonight.
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