It was a dark afternoon. Well dark enough to be called night. But the clocks had just changed. It seemed too early to be night. Since the weekend, still only 2 days past, I had felt something change. Where previously I had sought the light, now I moved towards the dark. I wanted to feel lost in it. I wanted it to hide me, hide my flaws, hide my inadequacies, hide my worries. I leered towards corners, behind things, to places where less light might come. At one moment in early afternoon I suddenly found myself at the back of the shed. I had forgotten why I was there. A dusty cobwebby place I had found hard to go in during the summer. But now I was rootling around in it, looking for things which I never found and as I didn't find them, I forget what they might be. I found myself lost in my forgetfulness. As soon as I touched on an idea and started to follow it, I would forget what it had been but find myself still searching, still looking for something, just not at all sure what it might be. I could have come out of the shed and pulled myself together but now the light felt harsh.