SEVEN
Decidedly, there had been too many people. Paul, Cass, Violet, Tom and Tim, Mr Samuels, and the man in white – if man he was – had all descended upon me in so short a space of time that I hardly thought of my home as my home any longer. It was a thoroughfare, as far as I could see. A communal space in which all were free to foregather.
Now, I’m not the greatest fan of the communal space. Yet, have I not already said that I have, on occasion, frequented the Botanical Gardens? Indeed I have. No, I have nothing against a communal space as space, although, for me, the slight pleasure I once felt in a communal space was more the feeling of being by oneself amidst the tumult of others. Tumult may be pushing it, but the feeling of being alone whilst watching people doing what people do, f
