I believe in a house in the clouds
And God’s got his dead friends ’round
He’s painted all the walls in red
To remind them they’re all dead

…and while I’m alive, I’ll make tiny changes to Earth

That red room… Dora talks a lot about heaven at the moment. Do I believe in Jesus? Do I believe in God? You won’t go to heaven, Daddy, if you don’t believe in God.

I have to be so careful how I talk to her, when what I want to say is: there’s no heaven, and there never has been, and we’re all alone on this rock, killing each other, over and over again.

Frightened Rabbit made that feel better.

Something my wife said to me on Wednesday, when we were in limbo, waiting for news we already knew — she said it’s even harder making your way in the world when the people you respect don’t want to be in it anymore.

Am I ready to leap?
Is there peace beneath
The roar of the Forth Road Bridge?

I hope so, for his sake.

3 thoughts on “Floating

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