Am now three quarters of the way through writing my new novel, THE LUPO STICK. Not something to bleat about normally. But when you have PCA Alzheimer’s and every word, every letter you write is mental agony and a test of endurance… I feel slightly justified. For ten hours a day I tap at the keyboard, one letter at a time, in order to write about someone who does not exits, except in my head. A strange pursuit for anyone, let alone someone in my detairorating state. Oh Brain Gremlins, you shall not beat me.
Where do I look?
What is real?
What is not real, that I see and don’t see?
My daily adventure.