one chooses to read this as one likes
on the first day a beaded Union Jack bracelet falls out of the arm of a lounge chair we are moving
"it's a sign" Florinn says to me
today, whilst exploring a courtyard, I see one lone photo lying on the ground beside a skip bin
I pick it up
it shows the back of a woman
dark-haired, dressed in black
looking at Tower Bridge
"it's a sign" I say to myself
(we generate meaning from events we presume are unrelated in order to give our lives shape and sense
both are delusions
but neither dangerous
unless taken to be necessary instead of chaotic
for the shape and sense of life exists more precisely in the chaotic than in the necessary)
