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Monday Morning / 15 April 2013

Monday morning and time to get out. Time to remove 'People Like You' from the temporary home in Salisbury Arts Centre Gallery and place them in storage until May and their reemergence into the spotlight at the Lighthouse in Poole.

And I can't help but make links to Bedding Out (Liz's bed was here on this stage)... that temporary visibility, the Big Splash in the limelight, followed by a period of rest, assessment, evaluation and repair - behind closed doors.

I make the link because, after Liz Crow's Bedding Out and the massive response by so very many people who can identify with Liz's bedlife, I am still getting ensnared in my own trauma; the memory of when my own bedlife utterly dominated my existence. And I do mean existence. It wasn't a life; at least it wasn't a life with any quality to it. And that was official; the doctor doing my assessment told me to my face that I had "no quality of life at all".

I was eventually rescued by medical engineering, but that's another story.

Breathing is nothing to be
taken for granted. Each breath
a work of art, drawn tenderly,
eased by the millimetre in
in fear of pain, disruption
triggering the muscle spasms
that seem terminal threats
to existence.

And each breath out
unavoidable, happening
agony regardless.