I am a believer today; I believe in everything – even in the little pebble that dribbles on to my sandal, rolling on to the soft toe mound to evoke a dramatic ‘aiee’, heedless that I am walking alone on a fairly busy street. That pebble surely had a well planned agenda of moving places.

I believe in the grass that bristles at my touch, in mock display of reprimand. ‘Wait till I tell my siblings about it’, it seemingly jeers.

I believe in the water hissing out its ire as it boils on my stove. ‘What the heck are you turning me into now?’ it seems to question me.

I believe in the cloud hanging overhead, as it works up a frenzy with little nudges from the wind god to turn into a monstrous shape; even mystically spiritual ones that affirm my belief in divine forces playing peek-a-boo with the world.

I believe.

It took me a lifetime to get here. A lifetime that whizzed by for the first 10 years, floundered the next ten, grated for the ten after and paused for an eternity in the next million.

A lifetime of illusory head-banging on the wall in an eerie quest to see if the head could crack open the wall or that wall could spill out the head and release the demons. Years spent like a top sent on a spin in a boxed room, as an invisible hand held firmly on to my feet and swung me round to let my head go bam-bam against the walls of that box.

I went through these motions often, when sanity sat on the little boulder facing the rickety gate on the crumbling wall, heedless of the darkening night and the burning in my eyes.

And then, one day, without any return address the head-banger left, inviting the reticent believer to take over.

Mind games – they require no playground or accessories; they need no cues or triggers. They are like shadows, staring at us, at our changing shapes under the sun’s light.