'Full of such sensual detail that to read it is to breathe it in.'
- Jo Shapcott [review, Greyhound Night Service]

'Some of it is transcendental...'


This week I've been thinking about the secrets we keep in our lives. The small secrets and the big ones and some of these things we hide even from ourselves, like maybe sometimes you tell yourself something is okay when really it's not, but you've told yourself it's okay so often that you begin to believe the trick of it.

I realised only this week that I've spent the better part of the past year completely closed down to the outside world. I thought I was all up and running and everything was just dandy. But this week, something changed. And I knew this lie I'd been telling myself was over. I couldn't keep being untrue to myself. So I took some time out. Spent time with good friends and some lovely cats as well. And I'm coming round.

I think, it's not really so bad to be in this place. It's like I've woken up and found a gold key to a box that's been hidden. And if I use the key, what will be inside the box? It all feels rather metaphorical, rather a bit like Snow White and that box with the pig heart in it, the one that the would-be assassin brought back to the queen. He tricked the queen into thinking he'd got the heart of Snow White. Just like I've been tricking myself into thinking, yeah, this is what living's all about, keeping a fake heart wrapped up safe in a box.

But now some things have changed and I have a genuine key, and inside the box I'm finding the one secret thing I've kept there for so long I don't remember what it looks like anymore...

For now I will turn it over in my hands and re-learn each side to it, each aspect. And listen to what it has to say.


Title of post taken from 'The Book of Love'

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