Have been having a good while of things, playing around with camera and software today. Now sitting at the Albert Dock, having a double espresso and listening to Amazon Prime’s 1960s rock stream.
As I just posted on Facebook:
Having a good time in Liverpool. Sometimes, when the river gets silted up and dirty, it’s much better to be an island. And an island, after all, is just a big rock. And we all love rock.
Ain’t it true, though?
And when you realise you’ve been cheated, and encouraged to cheat, yourself, even as the responsibility for one’s behaviours is entirely one’s own, and always should remain thus, then it is time to tell people who think better to either stop their para-fascism or stop their supposed friendships. One or the other: both cannot continue at the same time and reach a decent, honourable, kindly and coherent destination.
Liverpool has been good to me today, because I have reflected and reached the right conclusions, and it is time I did, and I should’ve done a long time ago.
And of course I am to blame for this.
And of course I should have known better.
And I think there’s a song about that.
And of course there is.
And that’s how the book ends.
And it’s time for me to move on already. As someone far wiser than me once philosophised: “Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish.”
I, who so wished to be unpredictable , have become the most boringly predictable soul on the planet. And thus my reason for being no longer exists.
But I knew this all along. I just kinda felt I might’ve cheated life in this more than life was able to cheat me.
And I was wrong. So. Hope you like the pics. More tomorrow, I guess. More tomorrow.