Part way through I was sitting alone trying to gather myself all back together, and despairing that there seemed to be pieces missing, and I decided to look at some art by Ellen Rogers, whom I've long adored.
And I imagined being safe and covered in jewels; living in one of her beautiful worlds. And that stopped my heart racing a little bit. So I imagined harder, and harder, and harder...and I slowly calmed down, and I was able to leave the cafe where I'd been dying in a corner, walk outside, through the city, and home again. And while I was walking, I kept my mind focused on how lovely I would feel if I was in an Ellen Rogers photograph.
Aberrant Necropolis is her new book, and I'm crazy-keen to get my own copy...which I can carry around with me in case of future life-quakes.