L.W in the mirror. What can I tell you?  Dogs trust her, cats fuss her, corvids sometimes nod a greeting; people tell her their problems. She notices clouds. And picks up from the ground things that have fallen – foil star, jay’s feather, the charm from a broken bracelet; anyone lost or lonely. She also gathers small round white stones. She likes empty spaces, even underground, damp and chilly. Time to herself. Quiet. Quantum. Jung. And listening to intuition. When she’s walking the dog in the dark   her mind wanders; she hardly notices the streetlight goes out as they pass.