The Gentle Demise

A small extract.

The Gentle Demise

My toes are numb in the sea waters. Holly sits beside me, taking pictures of everything. There was no need to take them of me; we all know I am here. Take them of things you may never see again. Things that are more beautiful than you can comprehend. Look around you; you are surrounded by a wonderful beauty. Snatch it with my camera and take it everywhere you go. When I sit with my feet dangling in these fresh waters, I am servicing nobody but myself. My worries are not permanent ones that keep me down. They are fleeting moments of panic. They are what make me human, but we do not need them to stay; they are not wanted when we feel we have solved them. France gives us the opportunity to throw our problems in the sea along with the sea captain and say “Fuck you, problems! You're keeping me down”! Time is endless and night is only a darker sky. We need not sleep; we have slept all day long. It is time to move on. We are not monotonous in are journey; we are dreamers; people without the others who wish to see us unhappy like them. Who cares if we fail, who are we to disappoint? Ourselves? Yeah so what? The beginning of life can start here. Back 'home' we have been stretching our legs for the race. This is the race; take your time. There is no need to win; we are all losers. . . .and much happier for it!

Sob, heavy world,
sob as you spin,
mantled in mist, remote from the happy.

We are not naturally monogamous! We are animals. Wild.

Liberte! Egalite! Fraternite!

Osprey escaped his home. He now sits in the shade of sunshine; smoking, drinking, begging for food. When he looked at me with his beady eyes, I could see happiness pour out like fine wine. His armpits smelt of rotten milk, but who cares. If my armpits smelt of rotten milk I know Holly would love me the same as if they smelt of roses, because my heart and my eyes hold my beauty, not the smell of my armpits. That will come and go when I can afford a wash, just like Osprey. He may not want to smell of rotten milk. Far from it. He probably hates it. But that is not a choice of his. He is stuck with it until someone puts a few francs in his large rough cut palm. It may not make him happier, but it will shut you lot up!