The Docks
Pindar and I got home from the airport just after five o’clock in the afternoon. We spent a few hours sitting on the couch, chatting about my cyclical dissatisfaction. ‘I’ve got you perfectly figured out,’ he said. ‘You changed a lot, kid, you achieved your goals. But now you’ve reached a deadlock, a cosmic flatness that, believe me, happens to all of us in life. You need a little adventure, something that makes you feel alive! Do you remember Torquay? When you were dowsing for girls? How did you feel then?’
‘Mr P., I felt alive! And the rest of it, it didn’t matter.’
‘Exactly, you need that rush of adrenaline, that taste of the unknown, and you need to break free from the comfort zone that you’ve built around yourself.’
He was right. I’d been able to avoid an unhappy marriag
