Thursday, January 10, 2013

Asylum Walk (11)

My life, my house. The place I live, where each event (First Time Skating) or linked series of events (Childhood) has a place and purpose. Behind different locutions you hear the architectural metaphor: laying the foundation, hitting the wall, raising/lowering the ceiling, room for improvement....

And thus: The Den. The Rec room. The Cellar. The Closet. Renovating. Expanding. Furniture. An ornament (“just for fun—an elegant touch”).

But where to put mental illness?

The Wreck-room?

Losing it (The House) repeatedly leads to a condition of vagabondage, provisional stints of renting, bunking-in, crashing...or outright exposure. Homelessness. Which is another, very different kind of home.

Different and not so different. Comfortable and uncomfortable. Hard to leave.

Or is one’s life a room in the house of one’s self? In my house are many mansions...

Or a snail’s shell?

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