Daisy on solitude

I feel as though I am speaking into the shadows. There is a risk, I say, that no one will ever hear these words, that it might as well be as if they were never spoken. Daisy is trotting along behind me. It’s not clear what she’s understood of that but I reckon she has at least picked out her name. Because I want to check, I turn round. At once, the shadows dissipate. Daisy’s tail wags in the sun. This is no better! I say. I want to speak into the darkness. I want the unearthly solitude and the shifting currents of gloom. I want to bear all the risk of it. Daisy considers this. In that case, she says, you must not turn round.

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