Dress code



"It takes only three weeks to change the wardrobe," Peter said. He balanced well, the cellular science with exemplar metaphor. It was heartening, if a tad challenging, to take that in, after thirty years of staring at my wardrobe, rarely to examine critically the old, now ill-fitting survival suit, invisibility cloak, hair shirt, pre-Teflon heart-armour waistcoat, trauma truss, social straight-jacket, Tenna Max pants for when the sum of all fears short-circuits all muscular control.

 So, cast off in my little ship, naked and alone, what garment serves me now? 

 I hear a quiet voice. 

 "Find me" whispers the life-jacket of unconditional self-love.

 


































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