Reality tourist

Alfie pokes me. “Good morning Auntie Twiggy”. Hi-five’s me and walks off.

I wake up again later, confused. I have missed morning circle. Where am I? The extreme comfort of the bed has given me back ache.

I open the door. The smell of bleach knocks me back, I had forgotten it existed. The sound of a vacuum cleaner. It stops. The road flows by, carrying lorries, cars, people. Busy with their lives. Such common occurrences here, but I feel as if I am a tourist in the outside world.

Published by


writer, musician, artist, joiner

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.