Last Night

by Arran James

Man has no permanent and unchangeable I. Every thought, every mood, every desire, every sensation, says “I”.

– G.I Gurdjieff/P.D Ouspensky, In search of the miraculous

In a fit of madness I’ve let some meatspace friends see this blog. Hopefully they’ll consign it to some vacant car park in their minds. A strange night all in all. Singing, dancing, poetry and tears. Still, once again I feel and- forgetting that its an illusion (who cares if it is?)- the world unfolds gently towards me with the promise of good things. I push the crimes and the sins of the past into a battered old Ford Escort, stress showing from several not very careful owners, and push it towards the water. As it sinks I am able to smile. Last night was someone else’s Last Night…today someone else stands happily in his place.

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