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Yesterday a kangaroo took a fleeting residence on the roof of the house next door. The mind ready to lean in, escape, play with the uncanny, the mind replays over and over again the fictive image as evidence. There is no kangaroo, let’s be very clear. The cinnamon coloured chimney that is permanently there could testify. 

Caught between the dissonance of a body reaction, heart racing, skin getting pale, limbs tingling, breath pausing and the cognitive reality of what one knows is an agreed upon reality, cuts deep. There is no escape.