I am the north face..I am dementia

I recently found and read a blog that sent me back 20 years to my days at University studying History of Science.  As part of my course philosophy opened my mind set me free.  This blog made me ache for the memories that have become fragmented in my memory.

I received an award to attend the Annual Conference the Philosophy of Karl Popper, 1995, in London which I believe Dr. Ray Scott Percival was the main speaker, sadly I am unable to remember correctly. I do know that ‘he’ was a student working with Popper.  What I also remember was being enthralled with the discussions on the day.  This was not a massive conference, this was for a relatively small audience who were truly interested in philosophies and I absorbed every word to pore over later.  Anyway, this blog stimulates this side of me that is excited by ideas and discussions.

I made some comments and this person wrote me a poem, I cried, as it touched me that someone could put into writing an understanding.  Please read it, the words are beautiful http://darkecologies.com/2014/09/07/lost-time-memory I mentioned that maybe I could put into words some feelings that may be so honest that they are hard to read.  So having been inspired by Mr Hickman I offer the following words.  I hope it can be understood at least:

I am the north face… I am dementia

I am the north face
I am the roots that creep unknown
and define the crack at first overlooked
I am the Tricon of Portsmouth
the Torre Velasca in Milan
I am subsidence from an underground
trickle of death, the dissolution
I am the searing heat of a day
spreading its miasma.
I am the first animal experiment obscuring the truth.

As I dissolve into less
I will become more,

I am the frightening creature of my own imagination
when darkness comes night after night (*see picture below)
I am the accusation spat without reason
I am the darkness without hope
I am the terror of confusion
a constant shifting of time and place
I am the strangers that fill me with their words
that I cannot remember
I am the hand that feeds an occasional moment
of lucidity right up till the end
I am the thief that sews your mouth shut
And hides the terror of knowing behind dead eyes
I am all you shall be

You were a facade that once grew
in architectonic curiosity
Principle of sufficient reason
You were Gothic magnificence
switching patterns of modernism
You were a beam of golden light
a metaphysical ray
That has dissolved into it fragments
and frustration

To become an empty box
Only on rare occasions does your soul appear
During A weekly ‘MaiNene’ ritual for relatives

When I can no longer write
and no longer ‘be’
I wish only to sleep forever




This is the artwork of Lauren, a fellow dementia friend who generously allowed me use this collage.  Lauren has Lewy Bodys Dementia which can give horrendous  hallucinations.  We can all be amazed at her beautiful artwork and forget that these creatures haunt her nights.  To find out about Lewy Body’s dementia and see Lauren’s artwork please read the blog that another fellow dementia friend has written here .

Author: Gill

I photograph things that take my eye. View all posts by Gill