The Corona Borealis.

  "See that's what I see as a potential sticking point.  In the sense that normally in this space, nothing is off the table really"    [LINK] He - "Light on or off"? Me - "It is fine" He - "Leave it on - there is plenty of sunlight - just not in here. The sun is over there" Me - Pointing in the opposite direction. - "Over there..." He - "Is it?- OK? Me - "For sure" He - "It's not bending around the corner - So where are we going today?" Me - "I thought I'd bring the table" I retrieve a miniature table from my bag. He - "The table"? Me - "There it is, there is the table" He - "I'm confused - is that a table for elves, it is very small. Me  - "It is a symbolic table." I put it on the floor between us. I say: "There, the table has been placed - for things to be put upon" He - "I'm still none the wiser" Me - "OK, no it i

I was trying to say... I am no longer coherent or sane. I expect there was the usual 'hello. I expect I sat down where I always sit. Was there chit chat? Who knows, who cares! Me:  "I did my...'what are we for'...I mean, I stand between two cultures. He: "For which course?" Me: " My integrative course - the other course is done, and passed. So, I stand here as a member of two opposing cultures - and the question 'what are you for'? He: "Was that the assignment, 'what are we for'?" Me: " No, no it didn't have a title just a number, or it might have a title! I don't know, it was almost a work of fiction on my part! I did put myself in it to some extent, but not entirely because I found it quite a difficult thing to write about because it seemed to ask not so much for reflection, but a liturgy of things I'm supposed to have a problem with - and I really don't think that I do. Or, things that are supposed to be

He hands me my coffee and I'm saying:  "It's quite nice that you get a different picture on your computer screen..." My laptop is open. He , sitting down:  "It really is cold - goodness!....so, is this part 3? Me:  "Basically I'm out of my head again, today because I've got to get my assignment done by Wednesday" He:  "Do you want to talk about that assignment?" Me:  "No, no, there is nothing to be done, the words are all there. I just need to read them all out and make sure it makes a coherent story. Just I realize what a constructivist I am, meanings are all created through relationships, and I don't know what the person marking the assignment wants me to say; do they want a liturgy of possible things that could go wrong? Well I will do that, but basically people want to be accepted and loved and when they are ostracized they feel terrible" He:  "Oh is this the 'what can go wrong in a therapy session'

A rather brittle hello from me Again, we speak in unison. And in the next part of our conversation I remember why I love his company - The flow, how our words dovetail and intersect.  It proves nothing.  I think it proves that we get on. It proves nothing? I make him laugh. Then the chink of coffee cups, and spoons and cupboard doors. Falling leaves of sound, deliquescing into a room full of heavy air. Full of potential and a silence as thick as woollen blankets. This is is an old house - Each time I arrive I look at the steps that lead to the door. I put my feet down slowly and carefully in the worn out sagging stone, to match the memory of foot-fall, and wonder who else, who else? And how they were as they stepped as I step now. Happy, sad, in love - people alive, and people  dead. He "Brought your gear? It feels a little cold in here, I've put the heating on. I hope you are warm enough?" Me - "It's been really cold, yes. Water is now 8.5 degrees centigrade -