Sunday, September 12, 2004

Sleeping alone, key and memory.

1. Getting up and knowing that tonight I will not be sharing a narrow top bunk with fleas.

2. Putting my key in the lock of my own front door after a week away.

3. I love the silence of my flat after a week living in close quarters with the gang. But if I am still for a moment, I can hear their voices and laughter clear as anything.

Hoarders, flowers and technology.

1. In a low voice he reels off the names of the muscles where I have been hoarding all this tension. 2. He comes home with posies of flowers...