Ghosts haunt the corners of my old, dark house as I stare into my sink, where the silverwear swims with the sharks. Bats float like traffic in the rafters above my head, the flapping sounds reaching my ears through rotted old wood and depression compels me to exit.

Surrounding me is grey slate and grey walls and grey sky, like one enormous box forever around me. I walk and walk, trying to force my tired feet to the edge of this city on adrenaline, hope and a pocketful of change.

Slowly, and quietly, grasses creep through the cracks in the pavement. Trees spring up like skyscrapers around me and even the sky brightens to an azure glint. I stop, amazed, and wonder why I still walk. This beauty alerts me to a rhythm previously unnoticed, a beat pumping out from the centre of my mind.

My feet move on their own – a slow, solo waltz, my eyes closed against the dance of the wind. I don’t feel so alone, here. This new world is my leading man, and I don’t feel dead anymore.