When you woke up this morning everything you had was gone. By half past ten your head was going ding-dong. Ringing like a bell from your head down to your toes, like a voice telling you there was something you should know. Last night you were flying but today you’re so low – ain’t it times like these that make you wonder if you’ll ever know the meaning of things as they appear to others; wives, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. Don’t you wish you didn’t function, wish you didn’t think beyond the next paycheck and the next little drink? Well you do so make up your mind to go on, ’cos when you woke up this morning everything you had was gone.

And when the lights go on again all over the world
And when the boys come home again all over the world
Rain and snow will be all that fall from out of the sky
A kiss won't mean goodbye when Johnny comes marching home

Iggy Pop and David Bowie in Russia, 1976.

The Lighthouse, Robert Eggers, 2019

Panic on the streets of London
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again?
The leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself
Hopes may rise on the grasmere
But honey pie, you're not safe here
So you run down
To the safety of the town
But there's panic on the streets of Carlisle
Dublin, Dundee, Humberside
I wonder to myself

Johannes Wohnseifer

To be understood is to prostitute oneself.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

M13, Hercules jewel box

Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky project by photographer Vladimir Glynin and stylist Vadim Galaganov.

Toal’s looking around the house with distaste. It’s a mess: aluminium takeaway cartons, chip-shop wrappers, beer cans (purple? aye, it’s found us at last!), plates with rotting scraps of food on them, even a pile of dried sick in one corner. – Listen Bruce, Toal’s face pinches as he allows his nostrils to acknowledge the stench we have long been oblivious to – you can’t live like this. Is there nobody we can get in touch with, to make sure you’re being looked after?

- No...