n is small


At some point i remember wanting big things, big successes, not necessarily money or stuff but some kind of accolade – suddenly i feel like i’ve stepped off that treadmill and am staring into a void, a blackness – you don’t know quite where you end and the world begins. Until… a song haunts me – on battleship hill – i want to be able to play the piano part in it. And chess – i want to see the connections between individual pieces – to see the patterns that will protect the king. I want to organise a massive dance in a train station, and finally to write about the different types of love that occupy the heart – to remember the little things – a tiny hand curled around my finger – my dog tiger’s chin nestled under my arm. Whichever way i cut it these days, n is small, and sometimes, quite often, outside of my grasp. Little Tiger died last week – she was buried today. RIP Tiger 23 Oct – 21 Jun 2012. xx



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