Wandering round the streets of Manchester in the rain. Everything feels soulless, instrumental. A business city. A big money city. Money talks. Poets walk.
Just felt so bereft in Manchester. The hard concrete. The puddles. The people who know what everything means and what to do (make money). The arts are crushed.
The dialectical swing continues.
Greenies and Lefties.
Will they go all the way to full socialism?
Keep your dreams within parameters. Avoid the hard shoulder.
Infected with the virus of “Too much time to think”.