You ask for something and something else, all too often, comes in its place. Is that so bad? I just love the idea that things are moving, are in motion and a request is answered. That is enough? Isn’t it? To not be stagnant – to be always shifting, moving, opening, living. I am responded to, that is all I ask. To be alive to the world – to be known, respected and loved. Writings. Requests for writings. I am fearful but excited. It opens me, my writing, I become alert.
I thought about sounds as I walked. They are familiar to me now, the sounds that I encounter on my morning walks. Buildings with generators that buzz and rattle, the tinkle-tankle of the boats rigging in the harbour, the whispering rush of the trees on North Road, the drip of down pipes from his father’s old office building and the fizzing of wires in the lampposts. I walk into them, these sounds, in search of them and they calm me. Easing my ever so present fear of the dark.
I must go. A train to catch. A nine hour journey there and back. I shall read and try to calm my anxiety about the new, the strange – the so far away. And then home to porridge and him.