Dead, maybe? Terminally ill perhaps? Or just sleeping, smouldering like the last embers of a fire. I’m still waiting, waiting for that breeze to kick up. Let the flames blaze up again.

Because I am cold, cold, and not just more than a little broken, and I wonder if I had got it wrong in the first place, you really can’t do anything about it, the way life just slowly freezes around you, the days become the same, day in, day out, and things stop getting better, you just ride them out.

And all roads lead to one final destination, you choose whether you want to go slow or fast, and everything on the way is just idle distraction.