Plato’s Other Cave The man, shabbily dressed, shoes mud-spattered, two-day old stubble, paused to reflect. He didn’t particularly want to. He knew it would not make any difference to the final outcome but he did think it was the right thing to do – the done thing, the thing done. He’d reflected before – many times and each reflection had only brought him closer to this point, to this here and now, his last here and now. He’d searched for a way forward. There was no way forward…only DOWN. How could this happen? It was only six short months ago that the first signs had appeared. No-one could have predicted the awful acceleration of the process. It just shouldn’t happen that fast. He drifted back to the present. How high? He couldn’t remember. How many? He hadn’t counted. Did it matter? It was high enough. He closed his eyes - and stepped forward.
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