There is too much to write. Too much to off-load, unload onto the page. And it is early, before breakfast. I just thought I’d make a start. Begin. There is power in beginning Goethe said. I love this time. The quietness, the stillness. Quiet enough to hear the mewing of a cat done below.
I was walking through the Castle gardens yesterday morning. It must’ve been about 4.20 am. A man was coming towards me. He sees me and begins to bounce about on his feet, his arms raised, his hands as fists. Just like a boxer. A boxer preparing to spar. I continue to walk, steeling myself for an encounter. As I came closer he smiled and stopped punching the air. Sorry, he said, smiling. I was cold. Just trying to keep warm. Did I reply? I think I smiled, possibly said, it’s OK. He walked on, as did I. Great shoes, by the way, he shouted. I laughed. Thank you, I said, continuing to laugh all the way down Great Darkgate Street.
You see there is nothing. There is nothing to fear.
