

I can get a pretty decent picture of the scene excepting that the writer names these places by name and I don’t know what they actually look like so the layout is entirely being generated by my imagination. It’s wet. It’s muddy. It’s miserable and cold. And It’s in London, a long time ago so everyone’s dressed like Harry Potter characters and covered in shit ala Monty Python’s Holy Grail.
I’ve been wondering a lot recently if neurotypical people can literally just control their own thoughts in ways I can’t even conceive of. Like can they actually choose what they like instead of just liking or not liking things? Can they choose what to think about without struggling to grab the thing you’re trying to think about out of the sea of interconnected thoughts flowing into one another all the time? Are their minds just totally blank until tasked with thinking?