GHOST LETTER 43

Chris R-1-105 Image by Christine Renney

Can a ghost be used like this? Trapped in a maze, looked down upon from above, one of many, oblivious of the others, a specimen in a jar, a rat – no a mouse, turning the wheel? Constantly failing at reaching the cheese?

I am walking again. Not in order to reach somewhere – my objective is not to arrive. But I am not ready to abandon this place, not quite yet. I am walking in the way that I did when it began and I realise that this is how I have managed to remain out here, to stay gone.
I keep to the outer edges of the City and I have been here before, walking on the periphery, relentlessly pushing myself forward. But this time it feels different and it is. I am not slowly edging closer to the centre and readying to make my way down into the labyrinth.
I have a few belongings stuffed into an old rucksack, an anorak and a blanket, a scarf and gloves. I have money; some coins collected in one of those little plastic bags. And despite the fact that whilst in the City I couldn’t stop counting them, I am not sure how much or how many I have.
I feel as if I have completed the circle and I don’t know now where I can or should go next.

7 thoughts on “GHOST LETTER 43

  1. I crawl like a viper
    Through these suburban streets
    Make love to these women
    Languid and bittersweet
    I rise when the sun goes down
    Cover every game in town
    A world of my own
    I’ll make it my home sweet home
    –Donald Fagen, Walter Becker

  2. The circle is the key. Or should that be the key is the circle? There is a universal here in that we all seem to be moving ceaselessly as if we were certain that we are ‘getting’ somewhere, and yet we always seem to return to a place with which we are familiar. As ever, great to read, Mark.

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