Now and again, I’m pursued by a jangling anxiety, crazy delusions of persecution and incapacity, and a deep, abiding and totalising sadness. There are visions I’m seeing. Around springtime, I had a drink early evening in a Chorlton bar on the main road and got the sensation that I was entering a world of darkness, and was entering a life of darkness. What strikes me about this memory was that there was no fear or dismay or even resignation about this, it felt completely natural, a sense almost of coming home. I’m also seeing: a tower block in a university town, a place of absolute anonymity and safety, storeys and storeys of it against the night, with a block shine to every window, a place of time and silence like that line of Vonnegut, scree and rocks slippering and sliding, clambering out of the valley at last towards the vantage point, where everything is beautiful and nothing hurt. I’m seeing a knowledge no one else seems to have worked out, why burden your life with limitations and responsibility when there is great sadness in the world as it is? I am seeing a worst case scenario or backup plan in a place that never really left my heart, something from the outside, wander Hyde Park in the middle of the night, city noise coming from somewhere, the Social in the distance and crying and stumbling, with again no sense of wrongness or exclusion, and then open my wrists and explore what other worlds may be. Being loved, to be able to love, and another vision that feels like a memory, walking across a main road to a service station in the middle of a village within the city of South Manchester, lights burning, reflect off the forecourt but no other soul around, and it feels, again, like a homecoming, it feels like coming home.