Death
The best thing about this year of lockdown has been the sighting of so many animals one ordinarily never saw, or, if you did, they were already dead, victims of roadkill or industrial poisoning or sheer exposure.
A labyrinth due for demolition
This shed had been habitable once. You could occupy it of a summer afternoon ten long years ago, with ample space at the table where one could read and write and sip one's slowly cooling green tea, the cup continually refilled from the ever-present steaming kettle.
A Poisoned Mind
Poison need not be the plot device of an Agatha Christie mystery nor the mere mechanism of melodrama. There is a poison in and of the mind that is insidious, that seeps, that corrodes, that clouds the thought and distorts the judgement, that will take over entirely if left unattended.
The never-ending quest…
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