Deep into the darker side of morning; the dissonance between the chord struck and the note sounded rings awkward in the ear. Thoughts come thick as bricks, truculent or tractable, empire blocks of concrete and jelly. Some are solid gold and easily held while others are Trojan horses disgorging disgraceful minions into my defenceless mind. We inhabit thought in the land of contradiction, what’s in you is around you, what’s around you is only comprehended through the scrutiny of mirrors.
I remember a wild eyed boy who said that he was free, and he believed it so. He had no chains and no claim on others, but the price of his freedom was solitude. I later realised that freedom was only the name of his cage and that he needed the compensations of fellowship as much as the next man. In the end he had constructed a prison of his thoughts – an intricate lattice of values and recompense – the instruments scientific management.