Coastal dreams of Crucita... Sunsets to set your heart by... A lifetime to reminisce.
The day the turtle washed up was a sad one. Its huge green shell somehow seemed paler in death and its scaly skinned face and limbs lay languid, like he'd just decided to *stop* at that precise moment. I thought I should take a moment to share some words, a farewell. Standing, head bowed, I tried to think of something fitting to say.

An interuption, somehow predictable, in the form of a rabid looking, so-skinny-I-could-see-its-bones, dog wandered over, sniffed at the unmoving reptile...then proceeded to Wee all over it. Quite comfortably. Satisfied, he sniffed one last time and sauntered over to the fishing boats.

Somehow...the moment for paying my respects was redundant.

Back to the sea.

Goodbye Turtle.

The lights go on...

Nothing makes sense anymore and suddenly I'm transported to this place. A nonsensical, unthinkable moment of truth. Defined by the manner in which I accept it. But do I? This is a turning point. A major crossroads. Then why does it seem like there is no choice to be made?

I keep coming back to that poem...John Clare....I Am.

"Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;.............


.....I long for scenes where man has never trod;"

Nothing else makes sense. Started a new journal last night. A New Beginning. Even my dreams are becoming predictable and my reaction to those reactions...worse, maybe beyond understanding.

The Rain

love the rain, thick drops of water splashing over everything, making people cower beneath their hoods and umbrellas, staying indoors instead of experiencing the storm.

I sat in my car for a while to day, just listening to the sound on the windshield and the roof and bonnet.

And I thought to myself, this sound is now, I will never regain this sound.... this sound is today.

This was a perfect day. I am in search of another.

Or part of another. A whisper of another.

Loneliness

Loneliness, like a fragile plane of glass perched on maybe's and in betweens.... loneliness can sting.... a slow death, a gradual build up of tears, touching one another in a pile up. A traffic jam of pain.

Timeless...memories binding me to the past and all the what-might-have-beens-but-never-were.

I'm jarred from reality like a bullet through the windshield of the car you're sitting next to. With no sign of the shooter.

Jose Gonzalez does tend to bring out the more sentimental me.

Today was a stark day. A day of being startled. A day of realisation and elements of emptiness....

Fabregas Fabregas

A joy to watch

Steady day, the rain was heavy and the clouds dulled the car journey but provided ample space for thought and song. Plenty of songs at the top of my lungs. In and out of key. Who am I kidding, mostly out.

And then, the game! Oh the game. We are Devastating. I can't take credit for that word, I heard the commentator at the end, today, Arsenal were, at times, devastating.

I agree. Totally. Utterly, Completely.

Pre-Sweden Days

Pablo Neruda was in my bag all day and I didn't take him out once...

I bet he would have been really surprised, given half the chance to voice his opinion on my current reading habits. I think I came up with a title for a novel today, something silly like "Decisions of a 20something person" blah.