Adele, I'm laughing. I didn't think of soles. I will though, make sure that I didn't invent this thing, wasn't totally stoned and imagined it!
I fell in the river totally stoned a couple of weeks ago. I reminded me of the scene I'd written in a story when a boy drowns, and the beautiful thing was the way I experienced the pea green water with little pearly beads of air was exactly as I'd imagined it when the boy fell in. Everyone thought they knew why I was smiling as they pulled me up, but they didn't, actually. They told me gravely, or is that gravelly? that I could have died because my legs were hooked over the boat so I had no chance of pulling my body up. It's all very well to tell a person that, but I got my photos back today from my local shop, and someone had taken photos of the whole thing. I've destroyed the ones in which I'm so ugly I can't bear it, and kept the rest. So, if they can take photos of my death, are they writers, or friends? Brings war photos to mind for me at this moment. Big issue.... Glad I didn't die, but if I had, I think it might have been OK at that exact moment, I really do.
Becca.

Wow Becca, I'm glad you didn't die too. That sounds like an incredibly traumatic experience. Your question about war photos is an interesting one. Who could ever forget that picture of the little Vietnamese girl covered in Napalm burns? A brush with death though must bring questions of mortality into sharp focus. One of my close friends (in fact a former boyfriend) died, quite out of the blue, last year of a pulmonary embolism at the age of 37. That was a big wake up call to me and other friends that life, even when challenging, and frustrating, is still a gift that we should treasure.

Goodnight,

Adele.