You don’t know me
On the drive from the Magdalene cave I thought of my mum. Of course I did, she is everywhere here in France, as is my dad, but especially I thought of her because so many friends have lost their mum recently, and in our party was a young friend who lost hers seven years ago when she was starting university. And so I felt it, the loss of a mother, the fact of it happening and the waves that hit when it does but driving on the A8 towards Nice, I again thought how odd it was that I feel nothing.
I’ve felt nothing since the day she died, I’m not sure I felt much before hand. At her funeral I…
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