bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Thursday 5th February 2009.

I have survived another lingering winters day,i am now sat here in front of this machine besides a warm radiator trying to throw the froth of work back in the dark recess of my mind for at least a short while.
My school boy 1969 diary tells me that three boys were caned today,of the three boys one has vanished not even a name is familiar alas no instant picture forms in my head,the other is a cross between a blur and a black and white photograph i have come across in one of those dusty second hand book shops,the photograph found forgotten amongst the yellowing pages,instantly ask questions as light plays across the page,not until the dying light as the book is closed,do the questions cease to be fresh amongst the thought waves i weave around the sepia once before me,asking my own questions both sets are seldom reasoned to a conclusion within the bounds of why.
I still have one or two old black and white photo's i took of those school days capturing doubt when i have gone,one might perhaps end up in some old second hand book shop,i do hope the book is perhaps by A.Camus.Though perhaps in reality abandoned on some tip for seagulls to play with.
I was 13..when i arrived on those boarding school steps quite innocent.The first big shock was not the fact i was away from home,but that there was a name for touching oneself and that it was a big taboo, something which just came natural, which not much thought,became an obsession still alive today as i sit besides this radiator and think of those heady days.

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