The Worst Is Over.

A full day has passed, the change from one year to another has moved into the background, and we are left with the reality of everyday life, littered with the remains of fireworks and the occasional drinking spree along the edges of cold streets. Transport returns to normal, and the first workers make their way back to ordinary jobs, ignoring those – the greetings all spoken – who have made this journey every day through the change, who have worked to keep the city moving.

New Year’s Resolutions have been made, and many already broken. The wrapping paper for presents long since laid to one side has been folded for use again, or crunched up to be discarded. The rubbish collections already planned, boxes and bags, sacks and containers await their relief.

In the supermarkets the last chocolate Santa awaits with heavily reduced price, soon to be replaced with the first chocolate roses, building up to Valentine’s Day, and then the same as bunnies, the fore-riders to Easter. We move from one commercial celebration to another, barely noticing the difference, but always feeling the strain.

This, the society we have chosen for ourselves, will defend against incursion, but will lose to the power of those whose sole talent is the inheritance of enough money and property to influence media, our surroundings, our lives. e say we will defend, claim to work against those who devastate, and still go about our lives as if nothing is happening, as if we cannot influence, cannot change.

And then the knock on our door, before dawn, and our turn has come.

Image © Urban Camera.