Harry Turner's Footnotes to Fandom
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Neurosis or "Old Fans Never Die . . ."

— by Harry Turner

As I walk to the station in the morning with the sun low behind me, I notice that as I pass other commuters – I stride a little more purposefully than most – I notice that my shadow, stretching ahead, long in the bright spring sunlight, I notice that my shadow is not so black as the shadows it passes.

Approaching people from behind I'm made aware that there's a softness about my shadow, a certain lack of intensity, of sharpness and definition, a greyness that is in marked contrast to the dense fuliginous shapes it passes by. The more people I overtake, the more obvious this odd state of affairs becomes. Am I getting less opaque with age?

The train draws into the station. I crowd on with the rest and the worry is lost in the routine demands of the day.

Today the sun is not shining. I have no shadow. Or worries. ■

© Harry Turner, 1975 for Interim.

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