On Saturday night I went with Marcin to see Children of Men, a futuristic film based on a PD James novel about a collapsing world where no children have been born for 18 years. In this film London is a third world city, the streets choked with rickshaws and drowning in garbage, with a few enclaves where the rapidly disappearing upper classes carry out their rich white duties despite the imminent extinction of the human race. It is set in 2027, and led to thoughts of the nature of imagination, the idea of selecting one of an infinite numbers of nonexistent worlds, one of an endless set of possible configurations of actions and events and personalities. The defining factor of the fruits of the imagination is that they don't exist, and so they are only allowed as a reflection of reality, a sort of cast of the mould of the real world. Imagination is confined on one side by the facts and on the other by the limits of the human mind- rather than having no bearing on reality, it has various bearings, with reality remaining as its point of reference.