It was two years ago when my passion for writing died. Expiring along with my desire to do pretty much anything of consequence.
I entered a period of depression far deeper than I had known previous. I gained very little joy from any experience, either positive or negative. Through my eyes the world had become a muted-grey.
In a weird way lock-down has been something of a blessing. Whoever designed my brain had social distancing in mind, and I had been in training for years. During the last six months, I became one of you again – or rather, you became me.
In that time I rediscovered my enjoyment in food, and then in photography – and now I try the same with words. I will make friends one more with the black squirls upon the screen; I will cajole them into sentences and paragraphs. If not for you, then for me.
Metempsychosis: or the passing of a soul into another body upon death.Let us see how long I stay alive this time.
