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  • Writer's pictureCrone

There's a hole where... life ought to be.

No, no, no. It's not lockdown. As you know, I'm somewhat concerned that that will end too soon!

It's not love. Well, not entirely.

It's not the lack of a puppy. I get increasingly fond of the dog. I see him move and hope he's not in pain. He doesn't seem to limp but sometimes he lacks that spring of youth and I start to wonder if that stiffness hurts.

It's not the lack of stimulation. I have the dreaded to prepare for, after all. And this blog. And rather a lot of work in fits and starts. Yesterday I was doing jobs for four different employers. At the same time. It was a little stressful to be honest.

The hole is more about cohesion. Like these strands of me are disconnected. Like I am a sort of Frankenstein's monster. Parts put together from different lives and just left to cope, somehow, together as a whole... but they don't quite manage to cohere.

This is brief. But it leaves me thinking... maybe the hole, the absence, is the place where light comes in?

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