I go places I don’t want to go to. I leave those places to find new places I don’t want to be in and then I leave those places and sleep in a bed I don’t want to be in and I dream a dream I don’t want to dream. In my dream I’m stuck: my feet are entrenched in mud. People about me move freely and are enjoying the sun. A man with tattered clothes stops and looks at me. He gives me his arm but is unable to move me. ‘I don’t understand’, he said. ‘It hasn’t even rained’.