As if nothing is happening.
Feels like it doesn't it? We're treading through, sliding and pushing against the moving waters of earlier peoples.
Inching.
The grand notion, the sense of something coming, of something being achieved in our time just isn't there.
The world is still teeming of course,changing, but progressing? That's another thing isn't it?

What have we given back to God? Or better still-more essential yet-reprimanded Him with?


I said at the beginning of this blog that my core interests we're the arts. I don't even know what that is anymore... the arts,no...
having an interest in them.These arts. They're not really too interesting.Just as we're not too.
Treading, pushing,static and worn down these arts are.
These arts.
Of our time.
Ours.
Time.
Timely.
Arts.