
The inside of my head is like the inside of my house, cluttered and gunged up with stuff…
Books, fiction, non fiction, science fiction and fantasy, train and engineering books, philosophy, illustration, history. Anything and everything. I could probably send the books off to somewhere that needs a library restocking, although a lot of the, books are probably outdated or out of print.
I have a very visual memory and “see” places in my mind. If I decide to paint something I can remember what it looks like and describe it to myself in my thoughts.
You could almost describe my house as a physical memory palace. Ornaments, books, paintings, even tubes of paint link my mind back to a place I had visited or a person I knew.
The clutter hides my house. How pleased I would be to winnow out the best bits and suddenly have space. Honestly it’s like a, space station at the moment, full of things, floating around metaphorically, waiting to be tied down or ejected, I want to do it but physically ita beyond me, slow process and progress may be made. Talking about it might help.
Anyway, I do just like the word, cluttered, (and higgledy piggledy)……..








