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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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My whole world is outside my window-
is the stonework of Trinity House, where a wanton sun sprawls, spreadeagled and unselfconscious... The whole world is the white corner-post of the porch- a noble column, square, important, Protestant, and half-a-dozen leaves of a pagan cherry blossom tree straining to brush it... Haven't you ever noticed the trees pulsing with green? Don't tell me you haven't seen a December sky throbbing with blue? ...that you haven't waited while greyish clouds ambled along, weighty with vapour, pregnant with rain? Haven't you ever noticed a morning breeze licking hungrily at the leaves? nuzzling at the trees? Haven't you ever felt your heart pounding with the minutes? flamenco-ing with the seconds? Hasn't time ever been turgid with waiting? ...waiting...waiting... Then, later, haven't you felt the minutes, the seconds, the hours drowsy from their slow fornicating?
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