No More Than Three Sheep Abreast



Mindful of a mind full, I am in a strange state of expanded moods. I may shout - I may cry - I may cheer at inappropriate moments. But not as much as some. I hear the shaking of wings as they go by and there seems to be nothing there and yet I absolutely reject the supernatural. It is the a natural extension of the huge amount of extrapolation that the brain does with the limited amount of real input it actually gets. See many, random collections of shapes and you will try and pick out faces - hear any sounds and you will hear what you want. The rough shake of the wind in between the houses becomes a swooping spectre, threatening and voicing those threats, the black ghosts that worm their way through the gaps between doors and frames, scraping into sound the movements of any one imagined hells.

And the low moods are worse.