As a boy, these images of a euphoric future flitted into my mind and out again, like slides from the world yet to be. They were never of anything specific, maybe landscapes or cloudscapes, but they were always so ethereal and awesome, such a warmth felt in the body and a wonder at it all, and yet so fleeting, and so tantalising of what the future might hold. I could never just bring it on or predict these sensations, they just came upon me, which only added to the radiance of the moments. Like some pieces in classical music that you hear for the first time and think ‘my God, I didn’t know such beauty was possible’. I feel now I get the images still, here and there, but not the huge charge. Or do I see the images but only wonder that at the future that came to be the present and yet carried none of the spiritual lust? I see the shapes, but the colours are faded, and there’s none of the glow.


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