Tentatively, I dim the cheerful banality of morning radio, dialling down the forced fun and drinking industrial strength coffee, trying to shake myself awake.
It feels like new terrain, despite the fact that I grew up here. It’s both origin story and Version 2.0 : director’s cut. I’m the main character in a remake few will ever see. I’m niche.
The stillness is bewildering, but not unwelcome. It’s a nice antidote to the city toxicity, which drove me half-demented and catapulted me back here.
Oh well , here goes. Tabula rasa, as before. One wobbly step in front of the next, an uncertain choreography in a familiar town. And it’s just Monday.
Hit The North 