The Lady of Shalott; I've just read Tennyson's poem for the first time. There are further analogies. She's in a tower in the middle of a lake. She spends her whole life weaving, but she is cursed if she ever looks outside at the world. I've spent most of my life feeling quite as isolated. I don't weave, but my brain weaves constantly, that is it weaves thoughts and ideas. I wonder if the lady wove in her sleep? I do. Curiosity eventually gets the better of her and she looks out. She sees Sir Lancelot and decides to make a bolt for it. I doubt that I'll ever get a knight in shining armour, not at my age. Finally the curse takes effect and she floats into Camelot dead. I don't intend to pop my clogs just yet, but I have been confronting my personal demons as they appear, and want to kill them once and for all.
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