Stanley is afraid of his shadow. On evening walks he sees it following us and startles or cowers. Then the trucks and cars drive by and there's more jumpiness and fear. I should share a little anxiety medication with him, put it in a snack so he can see the world through calmer eyes.
Meanwhile mine follows me around: the critic, the observer, the attacker like Stanley's, the confused guide that doesn't know where to go unless I go so doesn't guide me at all.