part #6 a dream of leaking terror

continuing my research I have now been consulting extensively (although not exclusively) with some of the inanimate characters that haunt the walls and corridors (and sofa arms) of your empty dark house – namely the crocodile, the lonely tomato plant (who troubles me and whose future fruiting capacity concerns me) and the curtains that are made out of your coat (to camouflage you while you cook) and have been asking them to help me with the one (two) problem(s) remaining to which answers are still not forthcoming. The questions are 1. why there is no loo seat in the loo and 2. why there are at least three rooms who’s doors are closed and why should their contents prove such a mystery to me – and why should I therefore assume they are holding back the cold empty ruin which I believe may already be leaking out into the whole of the house, out of the door, down the moonlit sandy lane and permeating the whole of this silly square shaped village. it must be stopped. the whole of N W cornwall is under threat. am I the only one who can see the seepage of this dark oily vapour across the vacant streets and clenched grasslands and amber headlands and scraggily back gardens and idiot lawns and grey shops and terror moors and lonely black empty roads that lead everywhere and anywhere except somewhere and upon which I drive in hasty retreat, shine my headlights as bright as they go, and still see nothing except the emptiness again, only more of it, and more brightly.