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"I am here and I have hours to wait before I may take possession of this holiday flat for a simple fortnight´s pleasure. The journey behind me collapses into the hinterland of my mind, rolled up as the past takes possession, penning it into its cavity and alcove. The capital seems a long way off. I think of the oval frosted glass and the sound of my neighbour´s radio and the silence of the dawn and the work that has to be done in the unfolding unpredictability of the setting. I need to think carefully and to compose myself and imagine that the holidays are here and that everything is alright.
But everything is not alright." (Jonathan Wood)

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