A hallucination is a fact, not an error; what is erroneous is a judgement based upon it.

Carruthers looms in the mist. St Johns Park, New Town. August 2010.

Mornings like the one depicted above do nothing for one’s enthusiasm from work. That said, dazzling sunshine with birds merrily singing, children gaily bounding, and Hungarian washer-women happily whistling snippets of Bartók doesn’t exactly fill me with zeal to get inside under [far too many] fluorescent lights and sit down in front of a computer either.

I need that glass box. By the beach.

With an urn.

And a fridge.

And fruit.

Pineapple.

And grapefruit.

And an early minute.