Turn Around When Possible

by Mr. Harlequin

I find myself using driving analogies a great deal in my life, both working and private, as they somehow seem to strike a common chord in people, allowing a clearer understanding. However, these tend to be minor issues, allegories to underline a minor point, a lazy way of making someone understand without the effort of raising them to your level of comprehension. Then suddenly, an insight into my life, ironically initiated by a driving incident, as someone pulls out in front of me and I brake sharply, both horn and mouth a symphony of anger and disgust, counter-pointing each other in a way of which Bach would have been proud. It is only as the adrenaline dissipates, the tension subsides, that the insight strikes me, hard between the eyes, the heel to my own mental hand. My life has become like my driving, apparent concentration focussed no further than the end of the hood, distraction a constant factor merely reacting to stimuli, to events, as they happen, rather than anticipating, of being in control. I have stopped planning, of looking ahead, SatNav dictating the direction of my journey as outside events dictate my wider journey, both creating an illusion of control that, simply, does not exist.

6S

Mr. Harlequin, based in the UK, has been known by many names, but the one used by his good friends has been taken (ironically by his closest friend), who uses it with more skill and style than he ever could. (It's his gift to her.) Despite time running out, he still has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up. (However, as he hasn't yet, and has no desire to, this is not the problem it could be.) He loves to write, but never loves to read what he writes. ("I cringe enough when shaving," he says. "Who needs more?")