The Phantom of Liberty

So another Egyptian liveaboard sank last week (Willow - take note! What did I tell you about Egyptian boats??). Accidents and misfortunes seem to be abound in this world.

Post 7/7. I've been thinking about paranoia. We have been avoiding the Tube. I have been avoiding Canary Wharf during peak hours (morning, lunch time and evening). I've been rethinking about taking up rock climbing because I am increasingly consumed by the unattractive idea of falling and breaking your neck (but then conversely diving is safe as long as you don't drown; and climbing is therefore safe as long as you don't fall). I've been rethinking about sky diving for the same reasons. And the other day I was thinking maybe I should watch Open Water, even though I'd been forbidden to do so by my diving buddy because he promises me I would never dive again. But I thought I'd better watch it so that whatever happened so that those divers were left behind I'll rather know about it so I can make sure it doesn't happen to me. I have suddenly been thinking of nothing but danger, risks and exposure.

Dreams have suddenly taken on incalculable hazards, every decision now simply another stitch in a vast fabric which any moment might, because of that stitch, fall apart. Ambition has become a nightmare of jeopardy, whereas before it was a window to riches and opportunity. It's funny how one's vision of the world can change so quickly. Hence the truth of opposing values in Bunuel's The Phantom of Liberty.