The thing about death is that it is impossible to imagine. Although I didn’t like Damien Hirst’s actual stuffed shark in formaldehyde, the unsnappy title had a touch of the circus philosopher genius about it, now I come to think about it. Back in the real world, the unimaginable keeps happening, keeps being on the news. The radio has to be kept off, the internet avoided, so one will not stumble on some crass media image. Apparently, we must be force-fed first-hand reports and pictures, it is what the media monster craves. I don’t believe an eye-witness needs to speak to the media in the aftermath of any horror or disaster, they need healing and love.
And I need to keep the gaps in my imagination intact to let in the light, that that is left.