I was reading Anne Lamott’s book about writing, Bird by Bird, and was squirmingly enthralled to see myself in print: ‘Left to its own devices, my mind spends much of its time having conversations with people who aren’t there. I walk along defending myself to people, or exchanging repartee with them, or rationalizing my behaviour, or seducing them with gossip, or pretending I’m on their TV talk show or whatever. I speed or run an aging yellow light or don’t come to a full stop, and one nanosecond later am explaining to imaginary cops exactly why I had to do … Continue reading I hear voices … and some of them are mine