It was cold. The chill hit my face for the first time in months. Autumn comes. No wind. No breeze. September smells hung in the air, unmoved. Smells of woodsmoke, mowed grass, damp leaf mulch hung around the residential streets. I don’t want to walk out these dark mornings. I waste time faddling, so as to not go out. Then when I do it is a wonder. Always. I push myself up hills and stand before the firmament agog. I dreamt of an art school. I was visiting. Students were talking to me, showing me their work. I needed to find a loo. I’d crapped myself (though very neatly) in my trousers. It didn’t smell, no one knew, but I needed to deposit it somewhere. I had to go down stairs, an escalator and so on to find one. I got distracted by others telling me of rules, of exams, tests. I woke before my mission had been accomplished.
