The corner is a place often forgotten, inhabited by only dust and darkness.  It is the periphery, the edge of our reality, where mystery and imagination can find home. Thought flourishes on dust and darkness. Thought is allowed to be free in the corners, for those who wish to stamp it out are blind to the intricacies of edges.

Those of us open to the realms of imagination inhabit these places. We do not fear edges for we live our lives as outsiders.  From the safety of our corners we are watching, absorbing, whilst the people of space (those free of care and fear) make their way through the room, mingling with others of space.

But we thought-corner people move with caution through space.  We feel its vulnerability like eyes upon exposed flesh- we feel our thoughts escape into the void, into the ether of emptiness, like dust into a vacuum, like a storm into the night.  We are forced to make a fast retreat back to the edges of reality where we are out of hands reach, in the corner of the eye, in the corner of the mind.  We are never quite in focus but we are weaving dreams like twine, telling our stories, reliving our memories.

We carve our gap with axes made of daydreams.  We know the power the corner holds.