Crocodiles will be crocodiles. Why I say this and why this thought has suddenly come to me I shall have to think about. There is something about tears as well. And I cannot tell if there is a connection. I am in one of them states. I mean not this geography or that, I do not mean states with capitals and smart cities and all or any of the balderdash. I mean a state.

I am in a state. And there is no name for this one. It is called a state and that is it. Everyone understands. I am in a state that is such that I am thinking crocodiles and tears and I cannot for the love of god or the devil spell out to myself, forget about you, what the connection might be. Or why crocodiles. And why tears.

Perhaps there is a connection. Perhaps someone will someday tell me. If you find the time or the understanding or both this Sunday, do tell me. I have the inclination. Tell me where I need to incline myself so I can become wiser, send me the location and I will be there. Trust me, I want to know. There is so much I want to know that I cannot understand.

Like this, which may be a nightmare but which I may want to understand because it is a nightmare that has come back to me garlanded and celebrated and somehow so presented as to make me lose sense and faith in all that I have known to be right. Or wrong. Somehow so played out to me as if the wrong was right and the wrong was, well, fundamentally I was wrong. I need to understand why. If someone will tell me, please.

If someone will please tell me why garlands have come to be around the necks of those who ravaged with knives. Or, if someone would tell me why a celebration has come to surround those whose selves have exhausted themselves on other selves in ways whose adjectives belong in sin and its punishments. There was the snuffing of lives. Many lives. And will someone explain where that came from? But there was worse. There was the invasion of lives and the humiliation and the pain of it to live with ever after. Not least the fear of it being given the opportunity and the stage for an encore.

We are back! Remember what we did? Remember what we are able to? Remember? Now we’ve been freed and felicitated. So you may know your place. Remain there, and we may not come for you. But you stir and scream and you know what’ll come your way. We are out. We are here. And we may do it again. We are like this only. Crocodiles and tears. Come to me the day you understand the connection.

It’s been hard work, we lost count

Bill kisko doon?

Someday there’ll be an account

Bill kisko doon?