Well, sort of. I haven’t got a new computer and this one has days when it has to be left asleep, so I won’t be doing much ‘joining’.
The world has shrunk to a small place, it’s become more intimate. People talk about what they like about this new, uncluttered life and what they don’t want to go back to. They say they don’t want to give back the streets to cars, the city centres to tourists and tourist-oriented consumption. They say they want to keep on waking to birdsong. They have got used to taking notice of the people around them, the things that need doing, the way the trees grow.
These are the things I like to hear about, not how great it will be when they get the entertainments rolled out again, the tours and cruises, the football, the Formula 1, and fill the shops with more junk Made in China so we can get spending again.
There are things I want to say, so I will. It’s cathartic—to write even if no one reads it. I’m working hard on a new WIP, writing poems (possibly not poetry) and observing nature just getting on with things. The days aren’t long enough for all there is to do.
I shall get round to reading some of my best-friend-blogs and will post when I have something to get off my chest.
La vie d’après
Nous ne voulons pas rendre les rues,
ni retourner de se retourner
sans trouver sommeil,
dans le non-silence des nuits d’avant.
Nous refusons les matins sans chants d’oiseaux,
le boucan de bagnoles en folie.
Nous avons vu de près les prés
et les fleurs des champs en bataille.
Nous nous rendrons pas;
nous n’en avons pas le droit.