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Sport 43: 2015

A book is a way of tidying the mind

page 177

A book is a way of tidying the mind

I’ve had thoughts these last days and not known where to file them. Evenings the crevices of the brain release like coral bleaching. The weather shifts warmer and the heavy duvet sweats it out of us. Iron, not entering, but messier, a slurry carrying not the future but a culture of misbegotten cells. For some time I’ve not thought of myself as a writer—hell, these days I’ve sent my library to the country where it gathers moisture, each page riffling with the stickiness of disrespect. Still, ego resists the notion of ‘over’. I wake and sleep. The baby moves in his cot like a crab.