Looking in looking out

I am staying in Newlyn for a short time and am enthralled by the closeness of it all. The sea and land, people and place. Intimacy holds you. It tells you that close in and far out are one and the same.

 

A Seagull caws my sleep

Sea escapes itself in air

To surface me in skin

Sarah’s not mine, it’s 4.48

Her Psychosis on the stage

Voices know no walls

Window on window

Door on door

A stone’s throw away

A cobbled pathway

Front to front sounds still

Back to back sounds a score

Of each and every breath

Voices heard inside as out

Washing hung to dry

Stable doors give up the ghost

Of characters dissolved in time

Of a windowless outhouse

A communal space

Winding stairs, a coffin drop

Looking in looking out

Thresholds of stone

A Seagull caws my sleep.

 

Sarah Kane was an English playwright who wrote 4.48 Psychosis 

I woke at 4.48 today.