Counterpoint in the Babble

How very long it has been since my last blog. The page by now seems to have fossilized; it would almost be rude, it would seem now, to add to what I have come subconsciously to assume to be a finished work, a relic of another time. Why bother? Why try again? You try something out, and if it doesn't work you move on...

Well, I'm going to give it another shot. Who knows? Maybe there's still something worth saying - a counterpoint in the babble, a pattern in the disarray, beauty in the bumbling attempts to make some sense out of life.

If life is like flying an airplane then most of the time we can't see where we came from or where we're going, but sometimes when it's not too cloudy we can sort of make out where we are right now. I like to think that I'm the pilot and I can go where ever I like; but I think more often we're passengers - we choose our destinations, buy our tickets and then settle down for the flight. How could you change where you're going once you take off? And anyway, who would want to?

The painting was done by Abel Grimmer, a Flemish Baroque-era painter. I love the colours. Look at the colour of the water. Brilliant.