
Picture your life. When everything is going fairly well. How much space between your skin and its boundaries? Are you booked to the hilt? What happens when the unexpected stressors hit? A sick child, a death in the family, a redundancy, a relationship break-down? Do you have the wriggle room to absorb some of the shock and stay afloat? Or does the thought of these boulders coming at you make your chest constrict, because you know that if anything else is piled on top of you now, you will go under?


I have never paid much attention to Kanye West. From the snippets of entertainment news that have trickled into my consciousness, he has at various times reminded me of a lost little boy, a toddler throwing a tantrum or red paint on a white rug, to get attention. My sympathy went out to him when it sounded as though he’d suffered a psychotic break under the media’s scrutiny. I have never listened to his music or worn any of his designs. By many accounts he is a talented artist. But humble he is not.





