The World I Know Transformed

In forty eight hours a storm has grown in the Atlantic from a gale to a category five hurricane.

With all our tools and technical skills we remain unable to predict significant and sudden change in the weather with any accuracy. We are kin to those ten thousand years ago who felt the wind.

Should I always search for proof before I act? There is no proof of human love, my joy or pain, and so it is the same for change released by nature's force, the world I know, transformed.

The Stuff of Memory

Memory: where something is stored and potentially retrieved for future use.

I have never enjoyed the capacity to quickly retrieve facts. I cannot remember long sequences of numbers or words. I have difficulty recognizing written symbols.

I remember movement and ideas easily. I recall sounds and images quickly, and emotion instantly.

Without objects, art, music, and written texts, I soon forget. The stuff of my memory is often external.

My Father, The Immigrant

My father was an immigrant to England after the partition of India. I would not be but for immigration for my mother was English. My appearance gives little hint of my heritage. People in my presence use the words migrant, immigrant and refugee to offend and dehumanise. They wound my existence.

I respect those who hold different beliefs and customs so long as they do not cause harm. I am enriched by those near and far, for intolerance is the home of insecurity, and the path to unhappiness.