{Climbing to a safer place. (A new collage for May that will soon feature in a new zine.)}
Last night I dreamt I was trapped in a room without a window or a door. I awoke to find myself kneeling in my bed, my hands pawing the wall for a break in the brickwork, a crack, an escape route. Heart pounding against the confines of my chest, the room took a while to fall back into familiar shape, to wear its well familiar face. Slowly in the dark things became recognisable. There was the wooden dresser, and there, the door. There, the hands of the clock with its faint blue glow and there on the floor possessions flicked from said dresser by my Siamese cat (who made appearance in the previous post to such acclaim).
Cracks in walls, someone in pursuit and being snared in a trap, it occurs to me that my mind wont let go of images seen in episodes of Doctor Who and The Killing/Forbrydelsen (please, don’t tell me how it ends, I’ve five episodes remaining in the first series) watched. Caffeine quantities increased, I find I am as impressionable as a piece of clay yet shaped and fired into vessel or plate.
