I've resisted blogging, preferring to save my ruminations for unsuspecting dinner companions, so this is a first of what I hope will be many, minus the food, but do take it with some wine and a pinch of salt ;-)

I wrote an op-ed piece many, many moons ago, when my head had no salt and only pepper in it, on what I then called the ‘jesus fulcrum'- how a single birthday became the benchmark for how we measure time and history, and how so many different cultures (and faiths) had their own pivots on which they balanced their teetering constructs. At some point one end of the seesaw gets too heavy, and through minor, bloody upheavals, we find a new event to prop it up with for a few more generations.

Unlike in the visual, performing and literary arts, where today is being recorded through the memorable lilt of a figure etched in paint or prose, the shape and form of our cities are left to the ubiquitous imaginings of nobody, leaving nothing of collective value to the future.