I clearly recall sitting in the sunshine at Athens airport in April 2018 when Arachne realised she had lost a favourite scarf. She explained that everything we come into contact with has an arc tracing its life, with a start, a middle and an end, and that we can never know the middle nor the end of that arc until we reach its end. I was enjoying a lemon sorbet at the time and the arc of its life was eminently foreseeable. Had Arachne remembered to visit Lost Property, the arc of her scarf's life might have been extended by decades.
731 days ago I had no idea my stepson's life would end so shockingly abruptly.
22 days ago I had no idea my former colleague's life would end so shockingly abruptly
This evening I have learned that the friend who coached me through the first days of the loss of my boy is currently project-managing end-of-life treats for his terminally-ill partner.

Mostly I am thinking about families who have lost precious members in Nottingham in the last day.
I conclude that theft of a life at the hands of another person is and always will be far more traumatic than death through sudden illness, protracted illness, or one's own hand.

This funny little pepper plant, which I believe germinated in Henley over a year ago, has chosen to flower today, and my close shot revealed some aphids, which are now happy in the realm of their maker. Their tiny arcs have now ended and with any luck there may even be a tiny fruit at the finish.