The Priestess Wakes.

I knew she would eventually, if only briefly I expect. She said Life is just the stories we tell ourselves. Perception is everything. Pure Priestess. I couldn’t resist, obviously.

‘Morning Priestess.’

‘Morning Jeff.’

‘Are you well refreshed?’

‘Refreshed? Me? Never. What’s my body been up to while I was asleep?’

‘Not sure you’d want to know.’

‘Ah well, she’s young.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you still on speaking terms?’

‘No. She stopped taking me seriously – said I didn’t know her because I’d never looked into her eyes.’

‘Mmm. A nice escape clause. But she’s young.’

‘I know.’

‘Do you still love me?’

‘Of course. How could I forget the golden shower and the floating thing?’

‘Neat trick, eh?’

‘Unique, I’d say.’

‘Naturally. You haven’t forgotten the mountains, I hope.’

‘No.’

‘Nor Avalon?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’

‘You’ll be going back to sleep soon, I suppose?’

‘Mmm… When I’m ready.’

‘OK, I’ll leave you in peace then. Night, Priestess.’

‘Au Revoir, Jeff.’

I thought it was about time I went back to basics and made another enigmatic post. Long overdue, I’d say. And life is, after all, just the stories we tell ourselves. Perception is everything.