clinging to the wreckage

An abstract silence thundered through the night into which she had disappeared. Like flashes of lightning she would appear and then, along with the storm, she’d be gone. Tempestuous was her beauty but her elegance and grace was like the calm before the storm. The personification of calm is what she was. Pale skin veiled in a robe of black hair and piercing bright eyes that seemed to venture deep into one’s mind and read every thought that lay inside, revealing every little lie and unravelling it. The eyes said ‘you do not need to speak for I know everything.’ From joyous and enthusiastic interaction to complete and utter stony silence. Excited interest turned to vitriolic violent hatred. There is no explanation. Formidable. I long for you.

March 4, 2016 Sitting in the living room of my parent’s house on the South African coast I received an e-mail from the University. I assumed it was one of the standard mails that arrives from them from time to time such as a newsletter or miscellaneous information but I opened it instantly anyway, just in case it was the result of my Master’s degree. The mail read ‘your result is currently being transferred to the student homepage and should be available shortly.’ I slowly opened the Student Homepage with palpitating heart, convinced I had failed, trying to decide if I should tell anyone. Upon arrival on the student homepage I saw the word ‘PASS’ and a smile formed on my face that I was unable to remove for quite some time. I ran to tell my mother and the sounds she made caused my dad to run into the room to ask what was wrong. It was a great moment that was perfectly timed and I am so utterly relieved to have passed. These things fade away in time but...

Many are now clinging to the vestiges of their vacations. That leisurely stroll along the beach at sunset is now a mere fading romantic recollection and some even start to dream of Christmas. Ever so gently autumn makes a silent approach, skilfully paving the way for her more aggressive sister, winter. Frustration often overcomes those who return to work after a lengthy holiday and conflicts can arise but there is no reason to give in and accuse the world of entering into demise. There are certain things that we must live with and one thing that we learn as we grow is that heartache will follow us wherever we go. “The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.” Earth can be a lonely place but at this moment in time there is immense beauty and an alluring charm as the heat drifts out of the night and is replaced by a cooler and more welcoming air. The Madrid skyline soothes us as it fades t...

They will stop and speak to a guy guarding cars in a car park because he is young and white but they won’t think twice about stopping for the older non-whites who are suffering equally if not worse. They will try to raise funds for the young car guard but what about the rest? They’ll stand up in protest about one murdered lion because it goes viral on the internet but it seems that before this event they were oblivious to the fact that animals are poached, tortured, and killed every single day of our fucking lives. They think that we can only understand the pain of loss once we have a child and start to imagine that every lost life is that of our own child… it’s like they never cared about the loss of life or suffering of other human beings before they had children. They are too fucking scared to do anything, support anything, say anything, feel anything until someone tells them it is okay to fuckingwell do so.

The curtain sways in the wind like a hanging man whose last light of life has left. Sad songs stumble from the speaker and an ageing man lies alone in a room reflecting upon the things he once loved that have now slipped through his fingers. On Monday he flies to France for purposes of business and it seems so meaningless. Last night he drank with the Irish, German, Italian and the Spaniard only to awake this morning with a terrible hangover and to stare at the bright sunlight staining those swaying curtains with a pain in his eyes, his head and in his heart.

July 5, 2015 My friend’s neighbour has chickens and they live in a pen directly outside of my friend’s kitchen window. When I am in England and staying at his house I interact with the chickens and, over the months, I have fallen in love with them. They are bright and they are curious. They are always awake, like myself, and this makes me feel like they are always there for me. They seem lonely and lost… confused… uncertain as to why they are here. It seems that they are reaching out for love… or even just to be seen. I relate to them. Sadly, they exist quietly, unnoticed, without much reason to continue. It’s early morning coffee time with my feathered friends and if we could speak we would probaby say to each other ‘don’t worry… I understand’. Perhaps they would offer deep words of wisdom. Perhaps they despise the human race for the enslavement we have forced upon them. All I know right now is that they seem lonely and lost just like me.

A period of detachment… a lack of motivation and of desire for anything. Nothing seems appealing right now. It’s all a foggy mess. In spite of threats to my health I stubbornly refuse to give up the things that are killing me. If life is painful most of the time and punctuated only by moments of pleasure, what is the point of giving up these moments? This would make life not worth living. I think of September and South Africa. October and New York City. I found a room in an apartment in Brooklyn, owned by a writer named Lucy. The romantic notions in my ridiculous mind lead me astray. Surely a better option is a known hotel in Manhattan, shared with my best friend.             These days, of course, I am no one but myself. I have survived in this skin for all of these years and I suppose I can do so a little longer. It is 5am and I sit here in the dark, gazing out of the window onto the Madrid night street. Th...