at the end of the long day

19.04.2026

S: It is the end of the long day. What is there to say now?

A: One can reflect upon a day, a moment, a life.

S: You ask for me to reflect? In this day, aside from work, I went upon the Cutty Sark. I went to a charity bookshop. I went to a fayre where I bought a biography of Marilyn Munroe for three pounds. I listened to music concerts all day. I went to Canary Wharf to look upon the waterfront and the big skyscrapers. I went into the parks around the Embankment. I had dinner with my girlfriend. I learnt Spanish, French, Hindi, Punjabi and Urdu. I read psychology articles. I learnt Art History. I ate a chocolate profiterole dessert from Marks and Spencer’s. I listened to Hindi music from the films.

A: Are you not tired? You have spent this whole week rushing around.

S: You know that I do not get tired. Especially when the sun is out. But as I was walking the Cutty Sark, which is a boat that is stationary, I thought to myself that this is a metaphor for self-reflection. We are upon the journey of life. But then, we take out a moment from this journey. The ship stops sailing. We explore the frozen journey, to find out where it is taking us, what it is. We become explorers of the pause.

A: Where would you like this journey to take you?

S: To the beating heart of the enemy.

A: That is your wish? You could have love.

S: One loves the enemy. One wants to clutch at the enemy. To hold them the closest. So that one could squeeze what is inside out of them.

A: Forget enmity. You are the lover. You have a lover.

S: To forget the enemy is to forget myself. I am the warrior.

A: Forget. Tell me a story.

S: Once there was this king that rinsed everything outside of himself because of her. And she watched him rinsing everything out of himself as he grew smaller and smaller. He almost became too small and she did nothing to stop him. Because she enjoyed how much she tormented him and wanted to see if there was any limit to what he would do for her. There was not. But one day, when he was at the end, when there was almost nothing left to rinse, this king stopped. She did not love him. She was not the lover. She was only one that he thought that he knew and loved. She had not liked that he was the king and would want him diminished. He cast her off. And there was so much in him that even now there was more than anyone else. And he kept on growing and growing. He was the splendour of the sun.

A: What happened to her?

S: The life of those without love is the everyday story of the people here. Ask any of them how they live their loveless lives of lies, hate and oppression. That is her story too.