Upturned bowl

We are moving in our small world of 11 people at 18th century speed; the names of the days are lost and unimportant.

Canals do not have the internet and it is only near towns that we collect fragments of elsewhere. Names of women cabinet members arrive through time one by two by one. Possibly this is unreal.

Late last night we heard about Nice; in the pub this evening we heard about Turkey. Disbelief. Shock. Bewilderment. How can we react at two-and-a-half miles an hour? How are we connected to these stories? If we just stay here will these Grimm tales stop?

Tonight we are driving under stars and a three-quarters moon. Even at midnight the clouds ahead are still orange. Are we in the same world as you?