Monday, 3 May 2010


Life is meant to be lived at right angles. We have to form the perfect intersections, so our lifestyles can be sold. There's people looking through the windows, looking as they walk along the beach, cobalt diamonds shimmering besides the burning sand. It's a hot day, even in the shade. The lights go out, and no one chose to live the way they could if they would be me.

We have to run inside. It's hilarious, really. We're running, but we don't know who to, what from, or why. But it's funny when we're running, and jumping, and skipping, and in love. So we do what it takes to make us laugh. Breathless, we stop at the couch, and pant at each other.

Clutching her hair, I tell her to stay right there. Suppressing a giggle, I tell her the kids are in the back, and we're about to go to the beach. It's all so damned ridiculous, really, but they're waiting. And then, I can't sit on the couch anymore. I can't breathe. I need air. I need to know that windows are not mirrors, and left is not right.

She calls me back. I tell her to stay put. To not panic, so I can stop panicking, and get back to hold her hands. The kids, I tell her, think of the kids. And then I laugh. There aren't any kids, not yet at least.

"No, not the beach. Let's take them to Disneyland."

I shake my head, and laugh. "There is no Disneyland, baby. We HAVE to go to the beach. It's right there."

She titters. I am drenched, and the water's 10 miles from where I am. The kids are still in the back.

I can't stop shivering.

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