A butterfly flaps its wings in Wakefield and in Vasco da Gama there is a thunderstorm. Not everything is meaningfully connected or causally linked; coincidental. Somebody, somewhere, doesn’t understand cause and effect. An absent-minded man walks into a lamp-post and develops a headache. Sure, life is chaotic; I’ll drink to that, especially if it means we can all cheer as the notion of planning one’s life, at the expense of spontaneity, leaps off a cliff edge. A butterfly flaps its wings in Wakefield and, as a result, in Vasco da Gama, nothing is changed. Yes, thank you. And sanity returns.
(31st July scribbled in the
half-light of the early morning, Bandwagon-dels-Asperities)