On the BBC World Service this morning I hear Desmond Morris author of The Naked Ape talking about his new book The Creative Ape. Apart from his distinction as a zoologist, Morris has now earned fame as a painter. The need to make and display objects is something I wholly understand. It is a far as I am concerned fundamental to existence. I could not be happy unless I had something to show for my thoughts and labours. Morris seems to be saying the same thing and I settle down into a pleasant sleep with this in my head.
Babel. I wake with the sounds of the human race washing over me. Something terrible and yet if it is possible to separate oneself from it, it can be almost soothing. Lamentations and jubilation. Layers and layers of voices. Words without end.