Something, I am

When I was walking the other night, I felt that nice feeling where feet pace determine minds metronome. The type without memory backlog. It is dark. Walking at night started when skin became sore, and eventually caught on sort of. Not really a habit, more a whenever. Night time strolls are the equivalent of hiding without trying.

Walking.

After hearing some (many) renovated houses whistle, I felt this residual horror. Something of a commonality these days. The change is rapid. Anyway, I managed to cross the road without knowing (another commonality) and became jolted into present time by a huge bill board with many individuals lined up with dogs that have short legs in their arms. It is true, that they had short legs because the words said ‘short legged dogs unite!’. Local artist Andrew Baines, which I just discovered now, researching this dog issue, is looking to create a photograph. It is only now, also, that I realized October is after September and the dog moment has not happened yet. At the time, though, I thought the event had already happened, and the almost laugh more so huff through nostrils accompanying a smile, laugh- surfaced.

Stillness. The cluster car.

A car where every seat filled accounts to one semi-person only. Window down, cluster speaks as one. Some gibberish. That’s another thing of commonality, delayed coherence. It’s ok though, ears encase sounds for a while, until brain makes sense. Sometimes codes taking many minutes to decipher. Sometimes never.

‘you’ve lost it’

That’s what the sound ended up being. And in that moment of quiet nostril laughing, the made it across the road, the mishap of months, the dogs, legs and quite some time later, when personal legs had began pacing themselves back into rhythm- the sense- I knew it was either people I used to know who are doing the same thing as when I used to know them, or new people I used to know, and now know again within the space time continuum. Wrapped as a blanket in the night, slow, the internal voice, it surfaced. Probably only to a small dried patch of grass on the sidewalk, or the moon, or everything around the moon.

‘never had it…mate’

And I felt good in the slow rhythm, and the real laugh that fell out thereafter. And that clusters are something I eat, and not something, I am.

malies first time with my camera

Image by Malie Thorne (her first)

14 responses to Something, I am

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