As I sit and watch telly, my eyes scan around and stop at this book. It's a book I've never read, but one that links to a strong memory.
When we were in Melbourne, we had a book shelf in our bedroom. I remember after my brain injury lying in bed and dosing off and on. I knew the contents of the room distinctly as I'd stare at the walls, the ceiling and the books that were lined up in front of me.
The Mind In The Cave by David Lewis-Williams
I'm sitting here and I don't know what it's about, but the title intrigues me. Maybe I'll give it a read. Also, I'm not good with literature terms, but I sense there's a metaphor in there about me, in a bed in Melbourne, after a TBI...
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