The Uncertainty of Everything.

in a shop on Brick lane/ a few years back

Wouldn’t it be great if, unlike last time, this stream of unconsciousness - that we are streaming in these posts of 2017 – could be read as a single piece?

Why would anyone want to do that?

I don’t know – but it would be neat wouldn’t it?

I think you spoke about this just a moment (day/week) ago, and we said we would have to do more every day for the next two months than we had managed in four.

Only if we try and write it as one long stream, before the year is out.

We have to sleep.

And eat.

And breathe.

We could have a break now and again, and patch it together.

People will notice. Besides we need to have the whole thing move along, build maybe and it certainly should have at least an occasional meaningful moment.

Is that the same as the significancy that we also spoke about earlier?

We didn’t call it that.

I know, I just can’t remember what we did call it – I’ve just eaten a very over boiled Brussel Sprout.

In the back of a car?

I’m not in the back of a car anymore. That was a long time ago.

You aren’t?

No.

Then neither am I. Where are we?

On a boat.

Where are we heading?

England.

Are you sure?

I'm not sure of anything.