Word – 'TRUNCATED' – block capitals within quotation marks. Who said it? Where did it come from? It led to trunk, hollowed out by a lightning blast. I used the colour of the lightning to shade the shape of my dream. Curled on the floor of the room while the man was still out there, watching, waiting, the lightning colour concentrating in the front part of my brain. Rills of brown earth that sticks to the fingers, the knees of your jeans, I mean my jeans – she says she wants me to stop describing my life as if it was happening to somebody else. Does this mean to take ownership of? The palest green tinged with bird egg blue. I wish for new ways to create colour – new words to create your own, to describe the green stalk rising out of the earth and the yellowish whitish brain forming on the stalk in crystals of rain awaiting the silver blade of the harvest knife. Again and again I return to the hollow tree, marvel at the phenomenon of century's old lightning, the near mortal blow but for the green shoots returning, the fresh leaves playing host to the brown owl I greet each morning and here the window clouded.