Safe place

Staying home
Don’t want to go out
Into the world
This is my cocoon
Wrapped round me
His presence
His garden
My solace
Seeking salvation
My sanctuary.
New paintings and regular art updates.
Safe place

Staying home
Don’t want to go out
Into the world
This is my cocoon
Wrapped round me
His presence
His garden
My solace
Seeking salvation
My sanctuary.

I’ve recently heard the phrase ‘ghosting’ when people no longer communicate with you on the Internet. It is a deliberate act of cutting themselves off from you.
I understand that sometimes people need a break and if there have been problems with a friendship or relationship then ghosting is a non aggressive or non argumentative way of splitting up.
But then there is the situation where people go missing on the Internet. I miss a few people who have done that. Perhaps they have announced they will no longer be using a site, which is bad enough when you have enjoyed their presence over months or years. Or they simply vanish. After years of talk, maybe someone you met on line and became friends with. Suddenly there is a hollow, a hole where they used to be. And because they are on the Internet you have no real idea in the world where they are. A couple of friends decided to leave WordPress. I used to look forward to their posts. Is it selfish to miss them?
A long term friend passed away recently. Luckily a relative posted that this had happened. Her Facebook page is still there and someone sent a message purporting to be from her. That was worrying. I don’t know why anyone would do that.
To some extent I would prefer to be ghosted than to have someone taking over my friends identity.

Late at night, my cat suddenly stares into the other room, somehow aware of something in there. I look but there is nothing but darkness, no sound, no movement, no figure, nothing except an old armchair.
It doesn’t happen often, but I feel sure my cat is seeing something in another realm that we cannot see. Cats eyes are so accurate, catch every ray of light, every glimmer or speck of movement. Reflecting them back in the dark as shining pools of mother of pearl, glimmering, unblinking.
What does he see? A previous presence? A future me? A distant spectre made visible by random fluctuations in the aether?
Nothing happens, he continues to stare for a few moments more then relaxes and commences washing his paws.