Envy

My friend Sam has just been voted the ninth best photographer in London.

I'm still not sure of what to do with my life.

I have never known.

I will never know, maybe.

It's all a dream, anyway.

Bristol, Hope and Pianos

I love life again.

I'm forty three. I'm well enough to be a cool, valued and loved member of this family. I'm good enough at my job. I'm funny. I have lovely friends, like Richard, and Joe, and I'm capable enough - as long as the thing you need me to be capable of doesn't include running.

I'm dreaming again. Sleeping deeply, and seeing. I am a good singer. I can get a tune out of a guitar, a bass or a piano. I am tall. I can buy anything I really need. My family is broadly healthy. My son is strong, and resilient. I love my boy. I am learning his Leo-ness, and he kisses me now, and I see his gifts, his great benefits and occasional frustrations for what they are. He is an aesthetically beautiful, intellectually advanced, playful, funny little guy. He will be fine.

My wife is just plain gorgeous. She loves me. She drives us forward. She helps me see it all for what it is. I do not deserve her.

There is still great sadness in my world. Mike is a poor communicator. Half my family don't know me at all. Beautiful Jo is in real trouble, and I'm afraid to ask.

That girl genuinely loves me, and I just don't know what to do for the best. How long does she have? Should I visit? In so doing, will my visit herald my belief that the inevitable is on its way?  I just don't know.