AS A WOODLOUSE WOULD (# 74,981)

I am sat in the leather swivel chair bought with £750 inheritance from my nan Nora Brown, once a Huxley. I tip-toe the chair in constant motion in a clockwise direction through 360 degrees and wonder what the effect of movement has upon the act of writing. I stop. Reverse the direction so I am now spinning against the natural left to right law of reading. This disorientates me. Centrifugally I feel a little sick, and struggle to see the end of a thought as it falls away from me or simply winds itself back in, as a woodlouse would.

March 9, 2009
Filed Under Writing on writing 

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