Dear Jil, I had intended to write you on matters of the heart but the pallium of death over my nation consternates. It’s been a very rough three weeks for the entire nation. Very traumatic. The bizarre unfurled its wings before our very eyes. Lo and behold it is a fire breathing dragon.
I woke up this morning with a rather heavy heart. I can’t define the heaviness. It’s like an indefinable weight in the lower left centre of my being. Pain has weight. Sadness has mass. When they inhabit us they exert gravitational pull on our spirit. And sometimes pain is so deep it exhibits anaesthetic qualities. Our hearts become numb, we can’t feel. The sympathetic undertaker has taken up abode in our land. It has set up enterprise and it is not lacking in patronage.