Letter #1

Temple Meads - creative centre of my universe.

The rain roared like applause on the station roof. They looked across the platform at each other through the washed-out fluorescent light.

Steady. Unblinking.

Another passing encounter.

He watched her foot swinging rhythmically from the ankle, as though to some internal music. He noticed that his was swinging too - to the same rhythm, marking time.

They were a band.

Once more, applause filled their ears.

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Danny,

we are on the edge of possibility, always. Who was it said that we build our own prisons? We have open prairie in front of us and we erect our own barbed-wire fences. We do this for reasons that are as complicated as the lives we live and our perception of them. Much pain is created by the fences we erect and the prisons we build, but freedom comes at a cost. It's the unspoken truth of human relationships and the breaking point of so many. The knowledge that tomorrow can be different to today, and the day after different again - like a chain reaction with no end. Always tempting us. Always reflected in the other person's eyes. But we live in fear of the consequences.

Your good friend.