Sitting

Sitting on a bench at the cold, windy end of Temple Meads station with complication behind me and complication ahead of me. The collar is turned up on my coat, my hands are thrust deep in my pockets and the wind ruffles my hair. My eyes are closed, giving me complete darkness. I am listening to David Bowie and band perform "Absolute Beginners" live sometime around 2003. I am temporarily isolated. Insulated.

It strikes me that a great performance of a fine song is like a great journey. For its duration it is apart from time and life. It leads through a rich and varied landscape, rounds corners and crests summits to reveal wonderful vistas. Its end, when it comes, is organic and satisfying. It ends because it should, without regret.