And that’s a truth. There’s a belief among teens that their parents should have sorted the nothings out by their 40’s. I remember thinking it as my own parents arrived in doorways surrounded by nothings, As a teen, I had no language nor the right grammar nor the wisdom to interpret that doorway nothing thing. I do now, but we only ever do that through experience, and why does every generation hide it away with sideways glances and the voice of doorway control?

There are songs and poems and writing around this. I know that someone has to quest. A marvellous word. One, I hope that will be connected to me once I am gone away to cause whatever havoc is allowed me in the afterness. And there will be much. I watch the grey come in, the slip slide of slanty rain, the lift as if the clouds are matrons with a fistal pull back, the hold, the skylight, the clearing, the blue, the everything.

I still know nothing. I like that. So much yet to learn.