I really did not want to leave the sanctuary of the Convent. The journey by sea was not good. I was sick just about every day and the food was dreadfu.... After what seemed an endless nightmare the ship finally docked in Nigeria. My mode of transport to the village was a beat-up old truck driven by a toothless old man.It must have taken about three hours to reach my destination. Some destination? My bags were just dumped on the side of the dirt track which was the so-called road, and the old. I had reached a point where there just weren’t enough hours of the day to spend on the things I wanted to, in addition to the ones I needed to, there were just too many things that had to be handled. And perhaps the day had finally come where there was just no more space on my bow for any new strings. I suppose talking to William about my life might have helped create this new ‘the walls are closing in’ feeling, or perhaps it was the frustration of not being allowed to finish, to not be able. More

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