Cold this morning. I’ve lit the fire, a small combustion stove that will soon heat the house. Later I’ll open the doors; it will be too warm inside. It’s a blue sky week, cold at night, beautifully sunny during the day, in the mid 20’s centigrade. The sea will be azure, lighter in places, patchy with the different currents rippling back and forth, lines of curdled white.
So many different currents to a life, to lives. Up the road here a man hung himself in his home some weeks back. Several others suicided in the same month.
The thin, thin threads of life. My GP tells me he sees hundreds of people suffering depression, yuong kids that cut themselves, silent sufferers, many more.
We’re not in a war zone, thank goodness, but there is a war here, people pained and trapped underneath the noisy gloss of our society, so-called reality TV shows, new instant this and thats.
To have good support networks, good family, good friends, open talk seem essentail. Giving voice to the unvoiced.