They were from different worlds: the one
privileged, wealthy, intelligent, the other deprived, lost, troubled, yet through a common interest and ability in music they were at one and as they hugged each other at the reunion I understood a little more of the value of what we are doing, something those in the office would not understand, something which would never appear on their spreadsheet and which, when they added up the sums, would not be counted.
With one stroke of their pen they would stop this because it was worthless, no, not even that, they wouldn't deem it worthless because they would never even see it. And these arseholes hold the power.
So many views of the black side of things today, so many failings and all of them summoning old spirits. Christmas gone already and offering only those trifles it has offered for so many years, those gaudy baubles and twinkling lights which do not warm and do not lighten our darkness.
Actors - two I met this week. Both delightful in their own way, both a joy. But could they recognise another?
Once again the faceless ones have conspired to bring me down. Must I really go on so much longer because of them? Can I go on? With every break it grows harder and harder to go back. And always the fear that by the time I am set free I will have lost so much as to be unable to take the prize.
The cloud of Christmas is gathering. Little to say.
There is a shadow. From here, where the sun is shining we can see it and we know that there are those who cannot see. Here where the sun is shining there is warmth, but we know that over there it is cold. There is a shadow. From here, where the sun is shining we can see it - and it is moving.
The great number of tiny pebbles are becoming a mountain, and one over which I fear I will be unable to climb. Already I feel the ache in my legs and there is still a long way to go.
