Writer's Notebook

Simon stepped through the door and inhaled deeply. He looked up at the sky, then all around before walking slowly, deliberately the few hundred yards to the tow-path beside the canal. Here he stopped, lay down and spent the next thirty minutes virtually immobile, staring up into the sky.

Getting up again he continued on his way, ignoring the few passers-by and paying little attention to anything but the difference between the multiple varieties of flora on the verge beside him.

Arriving at the lock he tried clambering onto the operating bridge. Just four days ago he'd have had no problem with this, but now his back was aching, obviously as a result of the cramped up prison conditions he had had to suffer. He made it eventually and stared into the shallow waters below him. A voice rung out and for the first time Simon acknowledged the presence of a fellow human being. After a brief exchange the voice petered out and Simon looked out from all four sides of the operating bridge into the world around. A few minutes later he clambered down and began the walk back along the path the way he had come, picking up pace the closer he got to the village. By the time he reached the turnstile that marked the start of the village he was walking at his usual brisk pace. Simon had once again entered the land of the living.