As the old song goes. It's happened again this afternoon, sitting on a bus in one of the less salubrious parts, with all due respect, of South London. The souless recorded voice announcing the name of the next bus stop came out with a road named after a place, a very small village, in South East Cornwall. The village where my daughter's best friend in her primary school days lives, and a village where a house was for sale a few years back, a house which, had my life been a few percentage points different, I could've afforded to buy. But instead, I'm in this nexus of desolation. Butterflies and hurricanes?
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
I know at my depths of depression, the same thing would happen. A word in an announcement, a signpost, something in the newspaper...not hard to understand why I withdrew so deeply I was functioning only at basal levels - go to work, come home and lock the door. At times, it's still the same way.
ReplyDeletePeace <3
Jay
Hello Jay
DeleteTo reprise a number of recent replies, I'll live. If I wasn't so screwed up, this afternoon's experience wouldn't even have caused a ripple. All part of the treatment, seemingly.
Thank you for your continued interest in the blog, and for being the sole commenter seven times in a row, Above and beyond the call of duty, and much appreciated.
Love & best wishes
Sammy B