Feels like a conspiracy here tonight.
“A small crowd gathering in an old bookshop, gathering around an idea, spilling onto the streets, albeit in genteel, Winchester fashion, quietly determined, perhaps, to connect, and to make a difference.
Quietly determined to whisper conspiratorially that there must be more to life than slavishly serving money or massaging ego;
Quietly determined to stop sleep-walking through life, and start waking up to the moments of clarity, to the gifts of epiphany, to the glimpses of magic we are all presented with every day, if we did but realise them.
Quietly resolved, perhaps, to try living as if less really is more.
As if you’ve got to lose yourself to find yourself.
As if you’ve got to die, somehow, in order to truly live.”