As I have grown older my perception of time has become ever more fluid; thus it is that one day I can be enjoying the first warmth of spring, and looking forward to a period of heightened intellectual productivity, only to wake up the next to find that weeks have passed with nothing to show for them, and the turn of the year is already upon us.
Of course this phenomenon is not entirely a product of my increasingly fractured psyche; the unsettling period we are living through, with its repetitive cycle of promised normality undermined by demoralising setbacks, has made it difficult to work towards any but the most immediate goal. The seemingly endless pandemic is the most obvious physical manifestation of this melancholia, but not far behind is the relentless tide of aggressively ignorant reaction that is sweeping through politics into the general culture, turning every news report into a litany of despair.
All in all, hardly a propitious climate for the author of a whimsical blog such as this; hence my silence of late. I do have some vacation time coming up though, and, unlike last year, I may actually get away somewhere, so perhaps the summer light will belatedly awaken my muse.
