I found myself at The Edge again. It’s that place you find yourself after battling with something larger than life to the point of giving in, lying back, and thinking: Do your worst, fucker. The Edge has almost become an actual place for me. A low, seedy little dive bar in my mind (like my personal shack to Sherlock Holmes’ mind palace) that no-one, were it an Actual Place, would ever like to admit they’ve been to, whereas I’m a regular; I’m the one in the corner, replaying the same pitiful song on a battered, old jukebox, between knocking back