Malaise

The occult comic strup coincidences continue. Last night I began a new piece, showing two clown figures stood on the steps of Lovers Walk, near Preston Manor. I did some this morning after my first post of the day, and only stopped when Em came round and we walked to Portslade to look in the charity shops there. In one such charity shop - the one I used to always look in when I was signing on over summer 2010 - I found a book called 'An Authentic and Faithful History of the Atrocious Murder of Celia Holloway' whose body was found, of course, down Lovers Walk.
As the early afternoon progressed a great malaise of spirit came down. After Em had left, and faced with a new and sudden desolation that had leaked into the afternoon, I decided the only way I could possibly cope with this wa sby going to sleep. In this I was only partially successful. I kept waking up - jolted into consciousness - by dreams, accompanied with a feeling of unanchored dread. At twilight I gave up on the thought of sleep. Had a cup of tea instead, and watched it get dark outside, watched the old angles of windows just across the back lane from my window.
The silence of the flat impressed me. No sound, no cries, no taxis, no fireworks. I moved through the darkness of the hallway in a kind of peace.
I went for a walk, nominally to get gas and credit for my phone, which helped me feel a little better. I walked nearly to Portslade again, then zig-zagged through the suburban streets between New Church Road and Portland Road, up and down, up and down.
Back home now, and Andy is back from work.
I sit on my bed and listen to the door rattle in the frane.
But only slightly.