Wait until next year

I pass through a shopping centre, one of the fancy, new ones. 

The Christmas tree isn’t a tree at all, more an intricate construction of scaffolding and lights. It dominates, not just through its size but by the way it multiplies itself throughout the space as it reflects off the various shiny surfaces that surround it. 

It doesn’t feel that festive though, more a totem to the commerce of Christmas, a place to worship the almighty coin, to pay your respects to finance. It is impressive, but more than a little unnerving. 

I don’t particularly feel like Christmas shopping. I keep walking.