The End We Start From

How quickly the everyday fills up time again. Glugs upwards from the earth, invisible until you’re splashing in it.

It seems it would be like that anywhere. Living on the moon, or hanging upside down from the ceiling, and arguing about teabags and hairs in the bath.

He is in another dimension, is all I can think. A pixelated world, perhaps. Or a galaxy of blue-black, floating slowly out to space.

Sometimes mothers develop superhuman powers when their children are in danger. It is called hysterical strength.