Opening the front door this morning it turned out that the scanner’s data was still viable.
In spite of their apparent familiarity, street signs looked different; they looked like street signs that are being looked at. I could make nothing of the traffic on Greyhound Hill or the people sitting on the bench in front of the Citizens Advice Bureau. Did I recognise one of them? Did I recognise any of this?
No information was forthcoming when I reached the office. Then again, no information is usually forthcoming from this source. It looked a bit like a place I might leave and so I left it.
It dawned upon me that this state of uninhabitability of the place was nothing to do with the Event that had taken place; it had always been disputable on every layer of enquiry. The content of the Event is unimportant to specify here, as is whether it is certain that it occurred or not.
The sun came out. It illuminated the weed growth in the cracks between paving stones. Briefly.