Friday, 27 February 2009

Coming home.
It's a phrase I have never understood.
I've had the same half dozen sealed boxes kicking around my last three houses.
I'm not a nomad or rootless or full of wanderlust, I have a mental illness. I have psychotic episodes. This most recent one is lasting a while; six years and counting. I don't really feel like coming out of my head and engaging. I'm afraid.