Permanence. Transience.

I'm lucky enough that when I'm brushing my teeth at night, I can see Norwich Anglican Cathedral in the distance from my bathroom window. There's a willow tree in the way, and in the summer, the fronds block the sight, but in winter and spring I can see the spire lit up far into the night.

By a strange coincidence, I can also see the Cathedral, from my desk at work just by lifting my eyes from my screen. The two locations, my bathroom and my desk, are about 25 mins fast walk apart, but the Cathedral acts as some sort of geographic centre of gravity to my daily routine. It reminds me of the permanence of things - the cathedral has been around since the mid eleven hundreds and has seen unbelievable change in that time. Society has changed so much, but maybe the basic need for community hasn't.

Looking out the window behind me at work, I can see a stand of silver birch. In the branches are a pair of pigeons and a pair of doves, nesting. Today, the pigeons laid two eggs in their nest.

The permanence of stone on one side. The transience of nesting birds on the other.

In itself it may or may not mean something, but I like the symmetry of it.