Dee

Sometimes when you're restless a river will ease the fret, absorb your perturbation and sweep it authoritatively away. Rest assured, debouched into the ocean, it will add hardly a line of spume to the ceaseless crashing of the waves. Ceaseless and pointless, pointless and ceaseless, the waves worry, worry, worry away.

It seems completely silly, but I sometimes find myself turning to my mackintosh and riding boots for the very same therapy!

Or perhaps a complimentary therapy.

They offer me a refuge, a door to shut against embarrasment or failure or reverse.

So many clothes we have to wear simply stand us on the catwalk, and make us strut. Not my mackintosh. Not these lovely boots. Once I have buttoned and strapped and buckled myself behind them they are a castle, firewall, womb.

So here I come when the storms of life gust icily, and this is what I wear.

H

 

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