It is all, of course, irrelevant. My attempts to divert you, in the words of M. Cocteau, have failed. Fuck you. Disclose to me a tidy sum and hasten off, northwards. I don’t believe a damn word you say.

Its all drift. East-West, North-South, but drift is inevitable. Realignments along the ghost wall, volunteerings, surrenderings, the same old bullshit.

The take, already raised this high, began to hurt. We all had to pay, one way or another.

I recounted another story, took flight amongst the ruins. L was stopped, stopped in ambition and intention. Diverted from her course by history and a conversation, from Lebanon to Aran.

THE SYRIANS HAVE INVADED, the RSS feed reads. Time for an abrupt change of plan. The future always has a way of interfering. They are digging trenches. They are building bunkers.