Sunday, February 10th, 2008
Finding time for Brimmer at this moment is tough even though he keeps tapping me on the shoulder and telling me to clean him up and get him up into reading space.
That photograph at the end and in the middle is important. Julia calls him back after eight hundred years. A thread that runs through time but goes unnoticed until needed. Sometimes things hit you like that and suddenly they become the most important thing in the world.
In Brimmer’s amount of time, space shrinks and a city or a desert can act like a side table or a cupboard. Brimmer could ask: what did I do with my 2455 license and he might go looking for it in London?
I remember that night, that rain, that snow, those years ago. I remember it all. But forgot the thing that was most important.