Is there such thing as living two separate lives? I lived in a vale called the “Valley of the cobblers” were everyone wore wooden clogs, a dead giveaway if you have been out late, I have many friends there know me by my first name. Have a homestead rising donkeys of the sturdy, strong type, also sold miniature donkeys, children especially liked them I had a man who looked after the animals when I had to return to city life, but as time passed I came to believe my real life was in the valley, because I feel like an intruder when I walk amongst modern man – it could be the clogs- people stare at me think of me as an abstraction a painting once seen on the wall of a café. Went on a bus to get back where my friends were, the bus drove and drove and when it stopped I hadn't reached my destination. Have to try again I miss my real life and want to come home.