Looking round the polished table at their faces-at thin, grey, beaky Maurice, at tiny old James Hanney, at brisk young smoothy Chris Bailey, at two-faced Tom (son of one of the powers), at all the rest of them-she found that she disliked them fairly intensely.
This is odd, she said to herself...This is very odd.
And she thought, What has happened to me is that some little bit of mechanism in me has broken. There used to be...a little knob that one twisted until these people came into focus as nice, harmless, well-meaning people. And it's broken, it won't twist any more.
I'm finding it increasingly difficult to twist that knob all too often these days...Hmm, I think that means I should start doing more yoga.
*I have no idea where I got this image. I've had it saved in my images file under "Crank it to 11" for ages. If it's yours, let me know, and I'll credit you.
No comments:
Post a Comment