There is a Tiger in Every Room

Rain just begun, a light rain, though it feels paradoxically heavy too. Bedsit window wide open behind me; sounds of traffic, passing taxis, horns, seagulls. It almost seems twilight out there. Light darkening. I can hear voices out there now -briefly- then drowned again by the cars.

Sometimes I imagine a tiger. The tiger is always there, wherever we are, but most of the time, the tiger - in our imaginations at least - is in another room. We can relax, even if that feeling is illusory. That illusion is gone, and I feel the tiger in the room with me. Maybe it
has noticed me and maybe not, but the tiger is here, and one day it will and devour me.

Shall I sleep now - a light evening sleep before Em comes around at 9:00pm? Shall I close the bedsit window, put on a DVD and wait for tomorrow?

I found a photograph today of an autumnal street in mid-Scotland. A road on the edge of moorland. I imagined living in the houses facing the moorland, and found this easy to do. it had the quality of memory, of lost Octobers before I remembered the tigers that are everywhere.