the spy who came in from the cold

blinking in the bright unfamilar light, out from the cocoon of threadbare plush and dim red lights. Into a world where people aren't twenty feet tall, with every word they speak laser-etched into the air in front of them.
I was getting a bit tired of running from cinema to cinema, and tired of the way that almost every story, even the real ones, needs a bit of death to push the story along, the boom resounding from those emotional depths.
It's time to be efficient and organised, do my laundry, cut my hair, make more chutney, make more badges,
or just lie around sleeping and then reading books when my body refuses to sleep any more, getting ready for a bit more sleeping.