“I live on the border between two states. On the one hand, I am who I am, and I know who that person is. It’s me, and I can prove it. I’ve got family and friends who will vouch for me. I’ve got a birth certificate that says where I’m from, a passport that says where I’ve been, and neighbors who know where I live. I know what I’m doing and what it is doing to me. And I know about belonging, and which of the people are my lot – us. We’re a mixed bunch, although it’s all relative, and one of us is no more mixed and no less relative than the rest. Me. On the other hand, sometimes it’s somebody else. Those mixed-up days when it’s easier to spot yourself in a crowd than recognize yourself in a mirror. On those occasions, it isn’t me doing the rounds, getting about, going here, there and everywhere, but it isn’t some stranger either. It’s the other person, the second one. It’s you.”

As of late I’ve been overworked and under pressure. It puts you in a half funk. I mean it’s not all the time, just a hazy middle ground where you feel like a stranger inhabits your body. I’ve found solace in reading Yorkshire’s very own Simon Armitage’s words. There is something comforting in reading what you are felling only more artistically, articulately, and whatever other words begin with art…