Over and out

I really shouldn't look at the BBC before coming on to do this. I am having a day of illustrative silence. Angolan actors shot dead by police with no accountability. Iraqi interpreters and translators in danger of their lives for lack of support from my British brethren, just for doing a little of what I do most days. The world is getting me down and I have no say about it, more importantly no idea how to make it any better.
It makes it very hard to put anything positive out in to it.
Use your wireless imagination to picture me sitting on my sofa in the wooded mountains outside Tokyo feet towards the stove, a few yards away from my son at the other end of the living room noodling on the piano.
Out in the cold of the night, just within earshot of that sound flying squirrels chirupping up in the tall cedar trees, gathering bark for bedding perhaps. Further away still in our small town my wife at a year end party with the ladies she studies sign language with. Many miles away in the metropolis my daughter, also partying with fellow students. Then, somewhere on the same circle that defines the surface of my home planet, there is you.
Now, allow your mind to turn its back on us all and warp out to float near a distant star, look back and search perhaps in vain for the tiny dot that we have become and tell me in a whisper if you seriously think that you and I are more embittered strangers than we are kith and kin.
Good grief.
Right, you can come back now and have a cup of tea or something, I am off for my own go on the piano.