Locks, Knocks and Panes.
Sometimes the thing you need comes knocking at the door in rhythms that your nightmares use and you walk over, timorous, your doubt-locked knees heavy and creaking. You stand there listening knowing that staying safe is better than running into the darkness breathing in 'I told you so' and thinking you should have said 'Go to the window and knock again.' Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.