Everyone has something to say, but nobody wants to listen.
Or, is it self-censorship? Is that the worst form of censorship, we do not, say not, write not, because we know it will not be accepted?
As personal projects go, this has been light-hearted, a means to engage people in conversation that I might not have done, meeting people I might never have done, persuading people to Shush me, even if I was standing on their table at the time. Sorry about that, you know who you are. ↵
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The lake was practical: to stop the area being flooded. This is what comes from living on a river plain. The area is deserted, only hinting at people, at life, activity, and interactivity. Wildlife, or birdlife seems to thrive here – discarded shopping carts are rapidly turned into a foundation for a coot’s nest. Broken crockery at the bottom is occasionally mistaken for a snack by the swans, and evidence of feeding comes from the empty bread bags tied to the railings.
Parts are in turn neglected, well-maintained, ignored, abandoned and brand new. No fear but strange and surreal sensations akin to episodes of the Twilight Zone, or The Prisoner, The Avengers. Nothing seems to quite fit. ↵
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