An idea, dare I say, taken from Nick Piombino’s fait accompli:
Ideas, in themselves,
have no abode.
Am I worrying too much about transcendence? Or between-ness?
Is anything in itself? And do you come upon the ideas walking along the road? Or in stillness. Above, below, inside. Position, position, position. Not only Sydney real estate agents worry about this. And I’m a-worrying while others are as well. Maybe there’s a lot of bad ideas around at the moment. One bad idea: a national identity card. In fact, three bad ideas in a row: national (stupid borders), identity (a straight jacket) and card (the losing one).