It's very cold in Europe. Londoners have the nightmare of minus three degrees centigrade on their walk into work. The homeless are freezing to death in the Ukraine, the advice from the authorities is to exercise, maybe run around and in the morning take a cold bath. In Egypt there is passionate debate about the role of god in society, younger men are rioting while philosophers shed tears for wisdom. Somewhere in Northern Italy there is a bed and breakfast owner who could be going mad because he has been snowed in for a couple of days. From China there is a silence which may belong to contemplation, or perhaps fear, because that's where computers are made. And too, I have seen a video of the most expensive hotel in the world.
All these things I have gathered, not because of a newspaper, or a television, or a radio, or a town crier ringing his bell as he walks down the lane carrying cocktails and caviar. And I realize sometimes, they are a distraction, a consumer of space, a moment that belongs to something else, an image I will call a "lollipop" because it contains no before or after except through a taste that I'll call the "unbecoming of the known," and which sounds like "sharing" but which could be what some have called "one more pointless tweet in a long line of errors" but which I prefer to think of as a stream of electrons and the chances they have offered for twelve or perhaps fourteen billion years.