28th March
The Obsessive Diary
There is a man in my local town who is crushed. That’s what I think when I see him, his face, his gait, his brain and spirit. Who knows the state of his soul. I imagine it pristine. I see him hurrying up the road as I descend to the traffic lights, a fast rock of a walk, almost sideways yet he proceeds straight. His head is enlarged and dented, the same as his face which has one eye smashed in, the other wide and staring. There are large areas of blackness on his skull where his hairline meets his forehead, and his hair is thin and wild, it decides patches and sticks up and disappears completely. He is always in a hurry.
