That other sea, that other arrow...

Draw a straight line and follow it.

Coming back to where I started.

Smells of chestnuts in the street.

Looking from windows in winter.

I turned a step with much less noise
knowing everything turns into nothing.
Being sad remembering
certain rain and custom in the south.

Turn every step turn
so as not to forget.

Panda Thoughts

It was 5:49pm when I realised I was dying.
It is routine for me to slowly leave work, being sure to say goodbyes to the least important people in our lives. I follow a crack in the pavement, rub shoulders with anonymous jackets and be on my way. It is a regular slow march that will find me upright in the seat of a train, my legs folded uncomfortably like a praying mantis being sure not to awkwardly touch other human legs. We don’t like to be touched anymore. My face turns away from people and turns to the window, the monotonous clicking and clacking a soundtrack to a life, half real half imagined.
While my body moves in formation and completes its nightly migration, my mind flies, soaring through trees and faces, hills and dales a defence mechanism to ensure survival. Here I have lived and loved, understood why and questioned deeper feelings.
On this particular day the sun drained elegantly from the sky causing untold shadows. The remaining beams increased in intensity creating a serene haze outside the carriage, highlighting every speck of dust and wipe of unimaginable substances on a once clean window.
I was able to gaze in this detached way until I was distracted by the silhouette of a person waiting to join me from a station platform. Their darkness had coalesced with the interior lights to create a mirror, a mirror with only one reflection. I was confronted by my illuminated twin, but not an identical twin like I had imagined, in my reflection I could see that I was sad, lonely, and weathered but it was me. I was bare and although I was shocked it was comforting to know I was real, I live.
I needed that person standing on that platform, I needed that light in place.
As sure as the moon arrives to cast its darkness, the stations quickly disappeared in sequence and I returned to my place. Normally people change when they feel this way, they have an epiphany or something.
I didn’t.
I was just happy.

If you are wondering what I am wondering...

If you ever need to feel better about yourself,
I'll meet you at Sainsburys...

Windows in winter

Home a coastline

Rose thorns and raspberry jam

Evenly spaced warmth

Remembering light

Never shy

Make sure you are in tune.

In a watercolour morning of char and stain, the rhythm of the ground out of time with my steady feet. This division not one to alienate and fracture but one to highlight and elevate and let the passing life know I'm here, I'M HERE!
Let the trees and the birds recognise my movements as one of their own and be allowed to travel along all alone.

Rice as sand. Glow as light.

we live by waters, breaking out of heart

light moves behind still shadows
although not dancing
it seems to be a moment

The ram in the shed and the goose on the hill.

Most of the time we know where we are.

Our ears place us, our hair feeling the subtle waves of air and objects that position us within our world. Our eyes add colour and shape to these electron impulses.

But then there is the heart, a mixture of physicality and tears.
The beating telling us we are alive and the salt reminding us we are out of place.