I will tell you about sadness that is the scrap of flesh on the very tip of my toes to the highest point of my skull. I can tell you what about sadness- when I lay my head back for a fortnight- missing meals, missing knocks on my doors, missing oneβs absence inside my head, and surviving- surviving still. But when I write about sadness, I shall write about you. For sadness is also about stories that were never given a chance to start.