We stepped out to Soho Square for two minutes of silence, joining the few hundred or so people waiting. As the bell tolled we stood silently and the world stopped with us. A calm, a deep warm fluid calm filled the space between us. A photographer waded through. A woman closed her eyes. Afterwards the applause mimicked the flutter of pigeon wings overhead and automatically I joined in. Is this an ovation for our own good fortune? I thought. It seemed cruel if that were true, but not having much experience with death, and being young and prone to judging, I’d forgotten that wakes aren’t for those who have died, they’re for the people left behind. Nothing is callous in affirming life, it’s a most natural thing, like the rocks and the clouds and the holes in the ground where the earthworms wriggle. So I joined in again until the palms of my hands tingled and then we shuffled back to our sunless rooms and offices or away to an early lunch.