Binding Ties in a Shaft of Sunlight.

Charles Foster Kane was born in Little Salem, Colorado, USA, in 1862. 

 

Impossible years later he stood in the centre of the Plaza del Pi, Barcelona, the afternoon sunlight falling on his face as he turned from the church towards the passageway that lead to his favourite café.

 

In the church he had lit two candles, one red and one green, for two friends he had lost. In the café he would eat a crème Catalan and wonder why.

 

But right now he marvelled at the warmth of the sun in what was till winter, and the warmth of the candles in what was the coldest church he had ever entered.

 

Though to be honest, he hadn’t entered many.

 

The sunlight striking his now upturned face gave him a clarity of thought that he tried to hold.

 

For a moment he saw with a hindsight from the future how he should be now, able to feel in the present what he would wish he had felt then, later.

 

But the moment passed like a cloud that wasn’t there, before he could.

 

And he continued along the passageway, glancing only briefly at the window of the corner shop.

 

The shop that sells scissors, knives and blades that can cut anything.

 

Perhaps even the ties that bind.