There’s a friend – lives nearby.
Let’s call him Mr P to preserve his anonymity.
He lives in a microscopic world, surrounded by metal tubes that allow him to observe the infinitesimally minute minutiae that reside at the far end of those tubes.
He rarely resurfaces.
When he does, he might go to the sea, collect some tidal mud and take it back to the land of microscopes and reverse telescopes.
He knows the technical name for a reverse telescope.
I don’t.
He wears glasses - they look normal but you can’t avoid thinking that maybe they magnify disproportionally, and he is in fact observing you in frightening detail.
Sometimes people ask me how he is.
It’s a difficult question to answer.
Mad?
I think he would agree.
Loveable and harmless?
The first, doubted-ley.
The second?
I wouldn’t choose to be his friend if I were an Artemia Franciscana or even a Moss Piglet come to that.
I’m neither - so I feel relatively safe.
In fact, he sent me a postcard last week – said, ‘haven’t seen you in a while.’
Well.
Not surprising.
He’s been looking in entirely the wrong dimension.
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