I made this collage a few years ago, combining images and text from one of the later League books by Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill, when I was doing a survey of Moore’s work for my own interest.
It came back to mind today as I thought how frustrated I am with myself and how difficult it’s become to speak sometimes, like shouting over the howl of my internal wind. Trying to see in every direction at once, torn apart by predictive text misfiring and failing to present suitable options. The simple answer is that I am worried, unhappy, and deeply uncertain about a handful of things, and that’s made talking through a lot of things very different. I’m trying my best to clear the debris and build a buttress against the wind.
But maybe, instead, I need to build an instrument for the wind to pass through, that can shape its screaming into song.