Someone else

So many people I keep thinking I recognise. Manchester's not exactly small so why do I keep running into the same people again and again and again? Except I'm not even sure they're the same people. They just seem to have the same faces. I can't walk to a lecture without spotting them, and they all stare at me. When we pass. When we glimpse. And those are only the ones I've caught eyes with. Staring at me - to make matters worse they're all beautiful. Man or woman or anyone it doesn't matter, just looking at me? If I peered out now from the window I am sure I would see someone seeing me. Is this meant to be guilt? Or brain damage? Or both. Sometimes they smile and are gone before I've registered it, before I can smile back, if I even wanted to, whether or not I was supposed to know them, or not-know them. I might even hear my name being shouted out from somewhere in a crowd in Market Street but what do I know? I thought the sound of a leaf skittering on the floor behind me was a cyclist. Most things just turn out to be the wind. Something in the air.

I swear I can hear the mountains inhaling, the Pennines catching me at the throat and stealing my breath. That's just another trick of the mind, the oldest kind, a metaphor. What a difference it does make. Knowing that.