Motorways, muses and morbid musings

I was driving on the M25 when Suzanne came on the radio. I’ve heard the song and reread the poem thousands of times. It’s my favourite, though I can’t quite explain why. There’s something in it that holds a “truth” beyond the words and melody—.

I sort of feel I am Suzanne, the drowning man and the harbour in equal measure.

But this time, somewhere between…