The speed at which life moves is lamentably vicious. And because of that speed and a belief that life is trundling by, I made an attempt at contacting one of my estranged family last week. I did get a reply, which I’m thankful for, regrettably it came to nothing. But that’s ok. Clearly it’s just still not time. Surprisingly, I carry no anger about the lack of progress. I don’t know what’s going on in their lives, any more than they know about mine. In an ideal world, we’re all doing ok collectively but it’s difficult to process that the door to their world remains firmly closed to me. It’s no reason to be despondent though. It is what it is. Close to 2 years incommunicado. Which sometimes feels like a punishment for I’m still not sure what. l refuse to accept that this is it for ever and ever though . Which is either the apex of optimism or the depths of desperation. I don’t care which. To think any other way would be to admit defeat. Never going to happen.