this is not a map
A bit heavy today, all in the middle, after three pints of Guinness last night. This is where I say something wise about getting older. But all I can think about is going to the pool last weekend, floating on flutter boards with C, while she described the noise of the shapes around us (no glasses, I couldn't see), these gangs of little girls who jumped and screamed and looked, when in the water, like octopuses made of hair. They had no middle, these girls, no bodies, no torsos -- just blurred ribbons of limbs, all looping arms and legs. Then the power failed, and for a few seconds it was wonderful darkness, before the lifeguards rounded us up at the edge of the pool.