Into the public domain

“To be honest I shouldn’t have been behind the wheel of a car,” he said in a low voice, leaning his elbow on the armrest between us. “I could hardly see straight. I kept passing these signs by the road with the same words on them over and over again and I started to think they’d been put there for me. You know the ones I mean—they’re everywhere. It took me ages to work out what they were. I did wonder,” he said, with his abashed smile, “if I was actually going mad. I couldn’t understand who had chosen them, or why. They seemed to be addressing me personally. Obviously,” he said, “I read the news, but I’ve got a bit behind since leaving work.”

I said it was true that the question of whether to leave or remain was one we usually asked ourselves in private, to the extent that it could almost be said to constitute the innermost core of self-determination. If you were unfamiliar with the political situation in our country, you might think you were witnessing not the machinations of a democracy but the final surrender of personal consciousness into the public domain.

—Rachel Cusk, Kudos

Photo: 7th Pencil