Monk Quixote

It has been a week for find­ing the famil­iar in the unfa­mil­iar.  Of revis­it­ing the past, through a series of ‘slid­ing doors’ style vignettes, and reliv­ing expe­ri­ences — some good, some bad.   The shock of the old and the clumsy trip over the barely remem­bered.  I’ve been made to look in old mir­rors, and find no Dorian Grey, or Mad Old Hat­ter, or indeed any­one I recog­nise in there.   The peo­ple and thoughts I’ve found are instead cloudy and blurred, or dig­i­tally enhanced and pixel­lated.  My mem­o­ries are fogged through lack of use — over­grown weeds in the dark cor­ners of the mind-garden. (more…)