My brother had been sent by a doctor to see a therapist. Or maybe an analyst. He doesn’t remember. We are not sure of the difference.

He was a very unhappy person. He had done himself considerable damage with drugs. He had crippling panic attacks and couldn’t travel. He didn’t sleep. He was clinically depressed.

He was prescribed pills and told to see this therapist.

After a few weeks he asked if I would go with him.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘She wants to meet you. Don’t get stoned before you come, it won’t help.’


Flash at Home
The Alarming Palsy of James Orr