London not calling

Finland in the mid-80's, an insular, wounded country, still appeasing the Soviet Union, the giant neighbour. And a very nerdy boy with a shortwave radio in the deep conservative countryside. The BBC World Service of the time representing the best parts of the departed empire. London calling to far away towns. Obviously with all the failings that all human institutions have. Still such a voice for civilization that seems now to be more and more muted.

I'm no island

To sum up my journey in this world, my success: I am no island, I am not free but bound with ties of love. This is the life that I dreamt about in my distant, burning youth. This is what I actually wanted, not wealth, not fame. But not to be an island, as I so painfully were for many endless years when years were endless. I now love and I am now loved.

Imagine

I have a very faint memory but I think a correct one - one dark December morning with the radio on. The 8am news. And hearing that... It made the dark morning darker. I can fully understand that maybe he wasn't was a perfectly nice person. I think basically presciously few of us are, and those that are, are not maybe ultimately the best for humanity. In any case, whatever he was, it was and is the art, the songs, the texts. 

30 years on

30 years on the boy is still not there, he is too feeble, too scared. The man is there, self-secure, taking care of his woman, funny and secure, taking care. Such a long bloody needless journey. Now the man loves and lives, 30 years on. And the stupid weak precocious boy is still not there, and not ever will be. As beautiful and perceptive as he was. This world just never was meant for him.