Home

Home again, in this little temple. The house is more active than it has been for an age. I wait patiently my turn in the diary room. Things to evict. That feeling your being watched, happens to me more often in the toilet than anywhere else. There is something filmic. Often at night, especially if I’ve been watching films, even more so if I’ve watched horror films, I can’t look into the mirrors. It’s too close to a scene. It’s uncanny.