A little over nine years ago, my spirit doll arrived. Despite sounding like a really New-Agey personal growth thing, it wasn’t. But it was the first piece of art I had ever commissioned, and I hung it in the first apartment I’d lived in by myself.
I’d like to say I named the doll, or at least said something significant when it arrived to commemorate the moment. If I did, I don’t remember. Yet there was no question that it would come to Edinburgh with me, so it must symbolise something, even if I don’t know exactly what that is.
Right now when I look at it all I can think is, “I need to unsquish its whiskers.”