The calendar is full but the future is blank.
The wires hum the folk-tune of some forgotten land.
Snow-fall on the lead-still sea. Shadows
scrabble on the pier
(Black Postcards by Tomas Tranströmer, version by Robin Robertson in The Deleted World)
Last week's London Jazz Festival featuring many Nordic musicians set me thinking again about national identity, but this time wondering if a combination of nations can have a discernible identity.