18 February


I have become almost human. Dinner at Mr Chang’s abandoned building. He has made it the most glorious place, with the right balance of wildness and care, beauty and decay. (His name is Thomas, Tom, which I must try to use, but in my brain he is almost irreversibly Mr Chang) We ate bowls of noodles and rested our glasses on the top of mossy stone. Too many of those glasses and I felt as if the vines might grow and twine around me, fixing me in place. It would not be such a bad fate. Not only that, but today an encounter with my correspondent, whose name, it turns out is Sarah. We played a quick game of quantum noughts and crosses, both laughing by the end of it. Succulents are not the ideal medium! I introduced her to Fred. She is a livelier friend for him than I am.

But now, as always, I have retreated back to myself and my cave, content with the faint sound of the mandolin player. I am a little overwhelmed, but happy, at least for now. Do not gloat!

the ghost knight


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