"wouldn’t wanna catch your crazy."
Shirley Jackson, brain scans and schizophrenia.
I slid smugly into the MRI machine with all the gall of a dodgy DM. ‘I’ve got what you’re looking for,’ I thought. A little Queen’s wave to the radio wave man as I sallied on in. My mind was a goldmine. I lay there, yoga breathing to sound of a Star Wars battle backdrop. It was the Covid summer of 2020 and seven years after psychosis.