After I'd been diagnosed with bowel cancer, I watched a programme on Channel 4 about tower cranes - I sat in my leather chair, silent and fearful, gazing at the spidery movements of these fragile titans, listening to the aerial philosophies of their operators -
The cabs of the cranes were delicate glass pods in the sky - Steadicams provided glimpses of London far below - the thin shadows of crane gantries moved over deep excavations, bus queues, delicate churches -
The next morning, I had an appointment at Poole Hospital for a sigmoidoscopy - I would wear my gown, give myself to clever instruments -
When I saw this crane, near Leicester Square, all of the memory of those hours returned to me - looking upwards, it seemed as if I was once more in that silent world, where nothing is certain, where you feel your body becoming smoke -
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