Driving in the mountains the other day, through the switchbacks, I pressed on up into the descending fog. The fern trees and acacias disappeared from view and I could see nothing but 3 feet in front of me. I reached for the fog lights. You can see me now. But they weren’t so helpful for me to pick my way through the bends. Then it occurred to me they are there for you, so that I don’t run you down, run through you, or prang into you. These lights do not shine a light onto the situation they are more like those of a light house except this light-house is on the move. I’m the reef upon which you might well be wrecked and I’m moving swiftly. On that reflection, I slowed down measurably. Even though I had great knowledge of this road and its twists and turns, I didn’t want to fuck you up.
Why didn’t you think of that?