It's nice to be real.

A colleague and I had a discussion earlier today about car accidents we had and how important life seems after escaping death closely.

(Report. Application form. Ward review. Interview.

Dreamless nights.)

It must be summer judging from the blue sky and the pleasant temperature.

(Patient Movement. A group of highly dangerous patients surrounded by staff walk slowly.

We stand aside and let them pass.

Two ducks having waited patiently cross the road after them.)

Rather than sitting by the sea I'm stuck in an office, dictaphone in hand.
My leave will be spent moving house. New job, new town. Lots of cleaning.

I look at the clouds when I'm driving on the Motorway and smile.

I'm still alive.
That's all that matters.