my fingers are wet they are damp everything is damp. i run my fingers across the prints on the cobbles the prints like a darker impression in the damp of stone. i run my fingers around the edge of the stone look at the shape of this look at the square shape look at the rounded edges someone chipped this someone carved it a man in cotton and coarse wool with scratched clogs and a lined face he made it and laid it down. he went home every night to a small brick terrace and washed the dirt off in a tin bath by the coal fire in the front room his tiny sparrow wife heated the water for him he drank too much because of what he carried but nobody would listen and anyway he could not say the words. nobody remembers him. imagine if nobody remembered me i would be so happy.
i stand and i turn around i look in all directions and in all directions there is cloud. there is no sound now i feel bereft i have been abandoned i have been left where has it gone my cat. why does it not want me anymore. i have seen it i have heard it and it has come for me so why am i still empty why am i so empty why am i in pain here. why did it come to me and then leave me alone. i am so frightened of what I want.
pain. my leg doesn’t hurt my ribs do not hurt i remember all the pain and now as i stand here i can feel that the pain is gone all of it. how strange. i bend my left knee i bend my right knee they bend together the pain is gone my body is a pillar of light but my soul is empty and my mind is crying out to be filled. why did it leave me why did it come for me and then leave me again. how will i ever find it in this cloud.
this is a lonely place and cold.
they looked after me once once they looked after me. everybody was horrified they wanted to save me they wanted to get me out but i was happy there everything broke down and i was nothing and i have never been happier all of the sheets were so clean. now i am a pillar of light now i am alone and there is nobody to love me. i would like to be in there again with all of the others treated like all of the others. when they put you there you don’t have to pretend.
my hair is damp everything is damp and god i am hungry i have suddenly realised how hungry i am. i am famished i am hollow my stomach is crying out how long is it since i have eaten have i ever eaten. i turn i go back into the house and i close the door. inside the room i go through the cupboard and the drawers and all of the surfaces there is nothing here there is nothing at all. there is a can of water and a mug on the table but there is nothing to eat. now what am i to do about that. in this place in this cloud hungry and alone with nothing i have no money and where would i go if i had money when i can see nothing. i look for food for days but there is nothing and i grow weak. there is nothing growing in the yard there is nothing in the weedy garden behind the house and i grow desperate i try to strike out across the moor but i can’t find anything i can see no paths i don’t know where i am going in this thick cloud i wander and i fall and stumble and now i am waist deep in the bog and there is no getting away. the yellow water soaks through me the acid stench of the peat is a cloud around my mind i am too weak to pull myself out i sink into the bog and am mummified and they find me in five thousand years and academics build careers around the mystery that i represent.
when they built the stone rows and the stone circles the barrows and the avenues the climate was different here they could grow different things what did they grow i wonder wheat perhaps grapes mangoes cherries cheese chocolate i am so hungry i need food. maybe there is food in the garden. i pull open the door and walk around the back of the house to where there is a vegetable garden i have to feel myself around the walls of the house with both hands because the cloud is so thick. in the garden most of the soil on the vegetable beds is overgrown with cleavers and young red brambles and bindweed. i get down onto my hands and knees and i work my way along the beds and in the second bed amongst the curling goosegrass i see potato leaves i grasp the stem of the plant and pull it out and the roots come up with one tiny potato hanging onto the bottom. i put it down beside me and dig into the soil with my hands and turn over four more small tubers they have thick dark skins but they are hard and fresh. i dig all around the hole in case there are more but i turn up nothing i keep looking through the beds and in the next bed i find another two plants with another nine potatoes between them it is a feast i am so hungry.
i spit on the smallest potato and rub it across my trousers to get the soil off then i bite it in half and i chew on the half that is in my mouth it is bitter and wet someone once told me that green potatoes have cyanide in them this potato will poison me i will be wracked with stomach pains in three minutes’ time and i will lie here clutching my guts and throwing up but it will be too late i will die in the cloud here and nobody will find me for weeks. then two hikers will come up the track to the house looking for water a man and a woman in their twenties he has dragged her here she is a city girl she does not like this but she wants to please him and he senses this and so he holds her in contempt and soon after they will split up because they found a dead body in the overgrown garden of an abandoned house and this was not something they were built to take the weight of. i should be patient i should take this potato into the house and boil it and mash it with all the others i love mashed potato i used to eat it all the time with sausages or meatballs and frozen peas and gravy i expect something like that anyway and i would say that was enough for me. i would give anything now for a plate of sausages. i wish i were a cat that could hunt through the clouds for meat.
why did it leave me i want to see it i want it to look at me with its yellow eyes my cat. it has never looked at me i want it to see me. when i can look into its eyes then i will know.
the potato is disgusting my mouth is cracked and dry like glasspaper why did i eat a raw potato what a stupid thing to do. i gather up the rest of the tubers clutching them to my body to stop myself from dropping them and i carefully follow the wall of the house around to the door and i go through the door and shut it. i will light a fire and heat water and boil the potatoes and mash them. i drop the potatoes onto the tabletop where they roll about and come to a rest i find some paper in the bottom of the cupboard and twist it up and put it in the bottom of the stove i break up some dry sticks lying next to the stove and pile them in a pyramid on top of the paper. then i look around for matches. there is one matchbox and it is empty. i go through all the cupboards i look in all the corners i look everywhere there are no matches and there are no lighters i can’t light a fire. i’m starving and the cloud is pressing in and the table is covered with muddy raw potatoes and i can’t light a fire. i am furious about this to be here in all of this i kick the stove so hard that i bruise my toes on the solid black iron then i lunge at the tabletop pick up a potato and hurl it through the window. the glass smashes with a delicious sound for a second i feel guilty and expect to be told off but then i realise i will never be told off and i pick up another potato and throw it through the window as well. there are twelve potatoes left i pick them up slowly and carefully and i aim using all of my concentration and i use the twelve potatoes to knock almost all of the glass out of the window frame. when all of the potatoes are outside in the cloud and only tiny knives of glass remain embedded in the cracked putty i have a sense of pride. now the cloud is curling into the room.