I haven’t told you very much about me. Mum did most of that, didn’t she? But you understand the issues, maybe better than I do. Importantly to me, I saw INCH through, but now, on top of the ‘never going home’ project, I have something more brutal to endure: incarceration.
I’ve been called sociopathic in the press, who have the means to tell a grim story about me. Of the others: Becky has been martyred, and Rose remains non-existent even to herself. There are conspiracy theories about Ed, but that’s nothing new for him.
Mum has moved from the village and dad is living back in the house. He visits me every week, but doesn’t say much. He does tell me about the dogs and he gives his coat to them afterwards so they know he’s seen me. We always hug a bit longer than we need to just to make sure. Mum’s stuff is all still with dad because she hasn’t anywhere to take it: she has no fixed abode as the saying goes. I get letters though – first they were from Scotland but now from all over place – which I keep in my diary.
Before I left home I asked myself the question of whether it was possible, psychologically, to move away and not towards; to relinquish the possibility of being at home; to let the world be as mysterious as it is. It isn’t possible of course, but, illusory or not, I felt wilder out there. I flew in the face of domestication.
The question now is whether wildness is still possible, or whether fear, or the institution, will break me?
End of Chapter 24