A funeral of a friend. The church is upstairs. I do not make it to the service. Upset with a deep sadness. Poring over a map of Forres. Remembering those houses - large edifices - that lined the road up the hill, (This road has more in common with London Road Worcester than Forres in waking life).
Talking to someone else that there have been so many people die at work over the last five years - I reel a list of names - five or so... ('and you remember, Chris, the Australian girl...') Is this a lot? Maybe it's not, over a period... but then I think that all the people who died were young...
In a house - white walls, bright light - but a feeling of age - perhaps 136 London Road Worcester? A feeling of change. In the bathroom. I am taking a shit. I suddenly realize that there is a man in there I haven't noticed before. I apologize profusely, but it is too late, I have taken a shit in front of him. I cannot tell whether or not he is angry or apologetic at having witnessed such a base act.
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