"Sometimes, I find myself trapped between the four cold walls of my thoughts and whilst the struggle of escaping, an avalanche of words falls, swirls with a violent force, and destroys the little remains of my mind.
I cannot let go…
My days are always the same. They start with a coloured jigsaw puzzle of medication I do not need, a cup of English breakfast tea without milk or sugar, an over toasted slice of bread ready to rot in the bin, dreadful news on the radio and then my favourite part of the day: a walk by the moor.
I say hello to my neighbour with a pre-fabricated smile, stroke his obese cat, shut the little fence door under his observant eyes and make my way on the street.
I’m becoming conscious of my first steps: weak and hesitant, as if I am always learning to walk, to stand tall, to build my own structure while I breathe in the town’s over abused air and breathe out warm vapours of solitude.
The moor is fascinating this time of the year. It is an entity wit