Frome Carnival 2010

Time is slipping by. The carnival came past this window I now glance out of last saturday. A year had gone and nothing has changed just a little closer to the end. No major works. No great new piece, no novel, no nothing. The steps one takes to escape ones situation are hard to make from this centre point. The explosion point of my own personal big bang, each days infinite possibilities, each moments straight line pointing in every single direction away from me. This dot, this atomic point where all direction is choice so often leads to nought through the unimaginable infinite choices. If its peas or beans I can choose but knowing I just want 'other' leves me static. The static rabbit is prone. Every predator yearns for the simplicity of the kill of the ultimate vulnerable. The none moving target. So the Fantastic sees me sat, motionless, he draws back his bow, and he has every right to shoot. When not in motion you are a legitimate target.