interrupted-transmission

Reflected sunsets. Office block windows lit pink neon.
Why remember? When everything is repeated ad infinitum, albeit with minor variations.
Why record what is already recorded? Why document what is already documented?
Why swell the musty archives with duplicates and triplicates?
Why copy out the words of the same book over and over again?
To let the mistakes multiply?
Failures of fidelity, lapses of concentration, slips of the copying hand.
Like genes mutating, like mutations passed down through the generations.
The seaward trudge of old man Thames, east to Essex.
Flare of pink sunsets.
Gulls wheeling over slag heaps. Wheedling and cackling.
Days, damp and torpid.
Imperial husk. Throne room of an abdicated king.
Rats scurrying and skidding across marble floors, climbing the velvet curtains…