woke me at three, cat jumping on my face. The wind blew the doors open downstairs and he had the run of the house. I carried him down in the dark, gave him some food, returned to the Morpheus slab. But the dreams didn’t come, I was packing too many cares and the wind was crashing around the flat roof over my pillowed head, lifting the zinc panels and quivering them like wobble boards in the hands of over-eager stage techs. And I know metal can snap. Metals let you down if you ask too much of them, whether gold, silver, brass or iron. Everything has its breaking point.
