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Thursday, 19 August 2010

454000 words

If a picture paints 1000 words, we have 454000 from a few hours and a lot of laughs. And that makes me smile. And they make me smile.



The blue looks like a potion, some spell, between my fingers. The glass is cold and the liquid shines. Twisting the tin cap, the bottle is relieved of its hat. They put messages inside these caps, some small uplifting words to make your day brighter or to make you buy more in the hopes that you'll get another.

I sip the sweet bubblegum taste as the cap sits, curled, in my palm. It tastes familiar and yet better all at once, I am reminded. Mouth wash. Braces. 6 months. Off. I smile. I had been looking for this flavour.

My fingertips trace the edges as I move the cap in my hand, pulling it into my eyeline. The blue winks up at me. I smile again.

She's sat in the next chair over, her hair is falling into her face as she talks of success. I grin and she responds with expected confusion. It knew. I read the words aloud, she takes them in, understands and smiles bright.

Your life will be filled with sunshine.

Yes. Yes, it will.


The image is crisp, precise, delicate and I hold it with care. It has been a long time since colours last looked so vivid, alive and the light accentuated the intricate edges and patterns of each small surface. I look upon the world with new eyes. Glossy, glass, framed in a transluscent lilac.

Thursday, 12 August 2010

Waiting Room

There's barely anyone here as I wait and the sky applauds the rain outside. I watch it from my seat, here, by the window. Pathetic Fallacy, they call it. Pathetic.

They've started to turn the lights off and everything is slowly falling into shadows, heightened by the storm clouds outside. People come and go, never talking to anyone else. Except that one. He's strange, the one to my left, he's talking to himself and everyone else and he keeps dropping the phone in his hand as if unaware that it is there at all.

He wasn't alone when he entered, the other left his side and is yet to leave the bathroom. They look like the kind of people you stay away from but want to watch to see what they'll do and how. They have a danger about them that you can't tear away from.

"Who is it this time?" His too loud voice makes me jump, I glance towards him but quickly look away.

"Christine, the grey haired lady."

"Oh, I like her. She's good. She doesn't hurt me."

The receptionist laughs, it's a nervous sound that resonates through the room. I don't move until they call my name.

Room five.

Monday, 2 August 2010

Le Manège Carre Sénart

It moves round slowly and its music echoes in an off tone, some notes are out and others are best left unspoken of. The animals, climb, spin, float mechanically and the people 'oo' and 'ah' and wonder if it's real. There's a smile as the french contraption slows, lowers, halts. It's like stepping in and out of a novel, like drifting in and out of a far off dream.


Wires, born from a small black box with two blinking lights like eyes, slithered up and attached themselves to my skin. And when a button was pressed it would call out in shrill tones, wait for some minutes and call out once more. This thing, this machine, this parasite stuck, remained, held tightly before time bade me pull it free and send it back from whence it came.

It left a residue, then a mark. A mark still pasted to my skin, an off colouring. A claim.