Note to self, don't start your day catching up on the news unless you want to spend the morning in a bubble of disbelief. Today it was the Edinburgh evening news reporting that there are folk raking through foodbank donations in order to bulk up their shopping, further afield muggings to steal NHS ID cards, Brexit creeping into policy decisions regarding the virus, equipment and international cooperation. It boggles the mind to discover the behaviour which is being reported, what a truly fucked up value system that some people possess, although in the case of the Tory party not so much of a surprise.


Here things go on as normally as is probably possible in this moment. Tomorrow the two week guideline for wearing a mask, after returning to the island, is up but it seems like common sense to continue, who knows where the virus has been lurking and I read that it can survive 17 days, so keep the mask on until midweek. Though they taste awful, leave a hint of hospital ward upon the palette, however the restrictions upon purchasing them have been loosened, I can now access three per week on my residency card. I think of the carers back in Scotland who are unable to procure such things, who, along with their clients are at a far higher risk of infection due to the dalliance and delay of government. Okay, a little bit political.


The temperature here has risen, 28 degrees today, humid, enough to make the mountain a desirable place to walk off the angst although horizons have shrunk once again, the further hills departed into the gloom, the skyline peeping through the murk in ghostly geometry. Still kind of intrigued by the faulty fifty as I seem to have named my lens, enjoying the uncertainty of each click, the camera set to -5 on the light scale and still flaring up and overexposing, not quite sharp but it makes it all fairly interesting.


The paths are quieter, but the humidity is noticeably higher than it's been, could do with rain. In the temple at the end of this small trail there's a ceremony taking place, the scent of incense rising up the stairs, opening up memories and scattering upon the air. Further down, back on the streets braziers are burning as bank of hell money is deposited into rising flames, life going on as it does...