No. 61 (David)

My father, David, has dementia. When he is sitting in the chair by the window, he stares into the distance for long periods of time. This is not a passive gaze, his eyes flicker, his expression changes as if he is watching an in tense internal film. When I ask what he had been thinking about he answers with his usual apologetic ‘I don’t remember’. I decided to compose possible inner dialogues, experiences that we shared in the past that had grown in my imagination. For example: ‘Stars in the lake’– David sees stars reflected in water; ‘Birds’ – David sees a ‘multi-coloured aviary’, but in truth just Autumn leaves. Richard Ayres