I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.
Neither by night's ancient fear,
The parting of hat from hair,
Pursed lips at the receiver,
Shall I fall to death's feather.
By these I would not care to die,
Half convention and half lie.
- Dylan Thomas - 13th January 1936
Here pictured in 1948:-
I think the pronounced frontal lobe development is suggestive.
Location: Fifty-one point six one eight five nine, minus-three point nine six seven three nine eight
Time: 300th of one nine one four
