Monthly Archives: November 2015

Mired in shit

Much has been neglected of late. My friends, my children, my health and wellbeing—my appearance, definitely. But of all the areas neglected, my blog continues to suffer the greatest offence. Fortunately, it is indifferent to its suffering. Rather it just sits there, ambivalent and unremarkable. It’s not for want of trying. Perversely, it feels as […]

Pastel Shells, Mark Rothko and Meditation

When I was around eight years’ old I had a dream so vivid that the images contained within it have stayed with me ever since. I dreamt that me and three of my friends—Eli, Michael and either Emily or Jessica—went through the door of the Year 7 classroom at our school. The door in my […]