Border controls
The further I go into this land of grief, the more I become aware of those things which were removed from me at the border without my knowledge or consent. Somehow at the border parts of my memories were confiscated. Never the whole of them - but there are patches missing, as if an over-zealous border guard has combed through them and left gaps. The patting down of my sense of perspective was a little 'vigorous' too - leaving it mis-shapen and needing to find its level again - which I have no doubt it will.
Every once in a ...