Sitting in our garden, May 3rd 2016
I have a sudden feeling of being a glass vial, chemicals cooked inside me by the sun. Seven years ago I lay here - on the grass (on the cracked path now - the grass is piled with dead bush, nettles, brambles) - I lay here as a bulging question mark. A happy question mark with calm, yearning potential. I sit here alone now and my inner question is putting her coat on now ready for the end of the school day.
I feel hollow, brittle, used - full, pliable, worthy. My friend's brother died yesterday. I feel sad that we are leaving this house. I feel happy to move on.
A mixture in a glass vial.