Mr W-M

Tight,

curly,

hair.

T would gasp

episodically

When we talked.

His rheumy

eyes,

the after-effects of the ague

would

half-close

as he leaned-back

Inhaling

deeply

on the B&H.

I never really understood his story,

refugee

via Tigray.

I never understood

His arrival in Glasgow in the 80’s.

His dry skin

Strong teeth

And

Smile.

We were both lost for a time.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

To what extent has Covid damaged medicine?

the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow...

Nakata, Aphasia and Sylvia Plath

Imagine being able to converse with a cat. That’s what Nakata can do.

Roundabout discovery of a great French composer.

Facts can be convoluted or linear. They can be jaggedy or zigzag. They can be true or false.

Every time I stand up I fall over.

Older people falling is often a bad thing.

What matters.

Anyone who has spent much time in hospital will recognise the phenomenon of the invisible patient.

Muffled sounds, drum beat and dementia

Norwegian Wood Yesterday Michelle Penny Lane All resonating, taking me back and creating an atmosphere.

Phone fraud and Mammeloshen*

I remember experiencing a sensation similar to that which a fly must feel as it slips down the throat of a pitcher plant. Suspicion mixed with curiosity.

Safe in heaven. Thank you Freda.

Me and my dog and silence. Silence is sometimes needed to re-charge. And yet, Freda is gone and I never really said hello.

%d bloggers like this: