The day the fool came to town.

I was not there - not in my head. Not in my body.

The fools world was another world - one of dreams and longing and desires unmet.

He woke up all this in the towns people - caused mayhem as people stopped functioning - they could not work - could not say yes sir, no sir - could not in some cases get out of bed.

Everyone was affected directly by what they had dreamt last night and this as you might imagine had severe implications. Some had dreamt of the end of the world - folk were scribbling earth manifestos on wet paper, feeling as if for the first time the earth was a cosmic human - a Christ figure that was dying - dying even as it gave them life.

Some were filled with dread - pouring water over themselves to indicate the coming floods and the rising oceans. Others still were in mourning - for the love they had lost or the love they never gave the time to have blossom.

And me?

I was here, writing furiously - drinking tea to calm my nerves - watching this from afar - the distance to my heart so close - but so very very far from the action. The thing is, this scene is inside me - plays out every night and every morning. I’m looking more closely now for the fool to show up and ask me to do something wild - jump in a flooding river - stay all night vigiling in the dark of the bush - he calls when I am off guard, and by joves, he’s got a friend in me.