In some old calendars there was between the end of one year and the beginning of the new an undefined time, nameless time in the dark around solstice.
We are in such a time now: telling ghost stories of fascists and commies, sharing the fear of the unknowable to come by mapping it to the bojums and bandersnatchi of our grandfathers fears.
Once we have told our ghost story and sent the children off to bed (Is it any wonder that they have nightmares?) we check the door bolted. We sleep. We wake. We live life attenuated till the light increases.
Hmm...
ReplyDelete