Just outside my door I'd hear people shuffling off early together, still in their night clothes and slippers, going for ECT. They knew they’d be gagged to save their tongues. They’d come back dazed, emptied, but clear, glass-clear, inside. “You watch a daisy,” one said – a kind of wonder beating wings at the back of her voice – “First time ever – watch one, watch one grow!” They came and went. No ONE was typical. Most of us, watching them go, felt thankful we weren’t on anything more than ‘tablets’. But now dreams lengthen that dark corridor, long as with mirrors reflecting each other down its length. And the tablet, large as a child’s skull, slides along – weighty and smooth, losing no momentum, with never a ricochet. -------------------I HATE DOORS THAT LOCK FROM THE OUTSIDE!---------------------- I feel that is what winter has done and continues to do to me. I can't go out much during the winter. That makes me feel closed up and isolated. I dream about being locked up. I remember the cold floors. The dark. The utter dreariness. The sterile/medicinal smell. The sight of the dead that just don't know they are already dead. The muffled sounds of shuffling feet with nowhere to go. This is what winter brings to us. This is the cloak we wear as a shroud until/unless Spring comes. ~yoshi