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.

3 comments:

  1. And yet you know that's not true. Open the box, Farrish! You are the Kilburn Kolboynik and, as such, I salute you. Remember dear old Michael Miles? You would've opened the fabled Box 13 if he'd pressed you. Courage, mon brave. I know you.

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  2. Mrs Pouncer you are right!
    I would have opened box thirteen.
    I liked the briefcase with the pound notes. I think it was sixty quid back then. I didn't like the canteen of cutlery. It wasn't Sheffield Everest that's for sure.
    I shall open the box.

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  3. Where did you go, Mr Farrish?
    Sx

    ReplyDelete