https://partisanhotel.co.uk/The-Life-of-the-Mind

Generous of Hotel to share some pieces from my new book with Dostoyevsky Wannabe https://dostoyevskywannabe.com/originals/i_will_show_you_the_life_of_the_mind_on_prescription_drugs

Of course, I must now relate what is inevitable, and describe the object in question. The tiny object that is constantly amused by its matrons and patrons. By its very object it taunts you. Like an unnamed peril surrounding an open palm, about to dart into its centre, like an insect that might be venomous. The white circle ant. The wingless loop moth. A little dead wasp above you and upon you that comes to life just when you were not able to look away and just when you began to feel unwell. It’s a small item, a shape if nothing else, an entity that can affect so much because it is said to be more potent and quieting than the feeling that has brought it into play. It is alleviation and mitigation, you hope. A wee white quell. Am I (is it) being too ambiguous?