I realise now in the future – whether in the past my art was worthy of interest or not – that I can no longer write in purely artistic contexts. My memories are too important for my creativity for me to be able to write imaginatively without resorting to their realities. And the revealing of my memories will always hurt too many people.
Therefore, a creative writer I can no longer be.
Photography of a purely descriptive kind is still, of course, going to be open to me.
But any writing must now concentrate on work: on security I guess, and things that niche-fit with my recent MA.
Some art has a right to live, whatever. Mine is not that case. And so now it is the time for me to accept this, with all such consequences.
Now is the time for saying goodbye to flying in these ways.