"There's no necessity to burden oneself with absolutes..."

I am strangely dissatisfied with my currency… so lackadaisical that I lack the heart to measure my lacking. So feeble and filled with apathy that I have developed a desultory hunch – an inward, clenched gait that reeks of an expired emotion that I left behind with all the other nonsense and traces of discarded heartache.

I remember the abandonment well.

There were tiny flecks of light, but it was so dark that morning.

I grabbed the thinly haired monster by the crown of his misshaped cranium and thrust him into the irregular spasms of the oncoming rapids. The water gurgled, salivating, equally demonic and ready to abort the unwanted.

This time, the ugly mass of raw emotion plunged, unresisting into the wrath of movement – only to reappear in a less approachable form, years later – hairier, uglier, scabbed and wheezing from lack of air (and oh so ready to steal my oxygen all over again).

Random post-alcohol malaise

Wondering and wandering - simultaneously. I think about the women in their stiff waistcoats with their flowing hair and flourishing hands, leading feverish folks through the crumbling walls.

It makes me ache. Can you see that it makes me ache?

It reminds me of that time I hurriedly swallowed a stone because I heard a gypsy woman once talk about the falsified art of staying grounded. It scared me to tears, so my fumbling six year old forefinger and trembling thumb clasped the closest pebble in sight, and I swallowed hard. I wanted to be bound to the earth. The nomadic life and her mauve headscarf made me breathe as heavily as that Summer wind storm in the North.

I choked a little as my eyes sparkled.