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Shorts and Shades.
Family and Friends.
Tears and Laughter.
No less than you would expect from a New Year. And we had it all. The kids ran around in the dust, screaming and laughing in their game. Little girl laugh, as we wiped away her tears and revived her smile.
And a breath taking sunset, fire until the stars had conquered the sky...
A glint here, a glimmer there, like scattered glitter that has yet to fall. Darkess creeping slowly across the horizon, pale blues, yellows and pinks sucked in and transformed into midnight blue.
Great Aunt Liz.
I told you about this, about how I want to be a writer. I told you that one day I want to write for a living, and that one day I want to live to write.
Whether you'll ever find this... well, I don't know. But maybe you will. And maybe you'll share your thoughts and ideas and I'll read them and not even realise.
We had a couple of goodbyes today. It won't be like last time though - we won't leave 11 years in between, I hope. The sea here is warm. Oceanic blue.
Tears caressing cheeks. Life is a play and we all play a part, but it often gets hard for the heart. So now I'm sorry to leave. I'm sorry to get on a plane and fly away. I'll miss you.
Then up in the air, and touchdown and taxi. I grabbed my jacket for the first time in weeks and we headed down to the harbour. Candles on tables, we ate looking out over the water. Giant bats hung in the trees, flitting around our heads. The bridge and the opera house look beautiful in this half-light. Sydney.
Breakfast, on a backstreet in Sydney. Open cafe, tables out under the trees. There are streamers and lights left over from New Year, strung up above the cobbles. It reminds me of Venice, and that wonderful week. One of the best of my life.
We wander round the opera house, the gardens, the AMP tower, and all the while my camera is clicking, captivating the many moments.
I am drawn back to the alleyway. Marvellous in all it's cobbled old-brick glory, cafe opposite an art shop, bright paintings in the window. A parrot eats the sugar at a table. I
By William King, or someone similar. If you type 'Fire dremaing by william king' into Google images it's the first picture to appear.
I love it. I spent a long time in an art gallery in Sydeny staring at it. It's an amazing piece of art.
But then, so is Sydney in itself. Every twist an turn of it is another picture. It's like a warm, not so busy London. Perfect. I sat for a while, listening to a cornet player sitting on a pillar.
This is an element I could live in.
We took a long-tailed speedboat along the river. It took us out to the shanty banks, complete with women in straw hats, bringing their boats along-side us, offering us water for only 10 baht. I was told that although the walls may be broken and rotting, each one of these huts would be cleaner than clean. Just because it's poverty, doesn't mean it isn't proud. The people here have their lives, and they might not eat tomorrow but they'll have a floor you could eat off and the kids wil play football in the street and never stop smiling.
Magnificent buildings, decorated with hundreds of thousands of tiles, all depicting various Godly wars or miracles. The time and effort taken to create these temples, these walk-through works of art, must have been huge. Giant golden Buddahs line every wall, and stone dogs protect the gates. People crowd in to see, but every so often you find a bench in the shade, full of peacefulness, where the real religion is done. The marvelling, and the appreciating, and the true believing in what is good, right and just. And sunstroke if your shade moves without you noticing.
Slow steps towards a final goal - words she has been waiting for. He stands at the alter, looking slightly uncomfortable in the heat, but smiling all the same. Smiling at her, like he has been for the past 25 years.
We fill up the front pew of this soaring church. The sun shines down and my dress catches the glow. The bride looks beautiful, like a light has been turned on inside her, and shines out through her eyes.
As night falls I take an orchid out into the dark, and smile at its scent. Star gazer.
Tears, complete with brave smiles. I told her she was not allowed to cry - of course we would see them again. I didn't cry when my best friend left. Why?
Because I wanted the last memory of us to be a happy one.
In the end, we left too. It's been good, but all good things must come to an end, or so it seems. We drove through the city, it's beat ringing in my ears, and rumbling through my bones. I'll miss the river life, the market world.
I watched the sun set in Thailand...
....and rise in England.
Frosty breaths, and an inner chill were my companions. We crashed in a cold house, colder than I've been for weeks. I washed away that traveller's feeling, and watched a movie with my younger brother. My parents both crashed out on the sofa in their coats, and didn't wake till the evening.
I'm not that tired considering. I could have gone to school, but at heart I'm rather lazy. It was nice to be home, to curl up on the floor with a cat who thinks he's a kitten.
I think the house might have missed us.
We walked and we... talked. About my going away. About how you've never been on a plane. About boats. About France. About parents being eaten by snakes (or was that just you?) Whatever it was, it made time slow, if only for a while. A steady pace, and even in the cold, it was contenting. So what if we walked in circles? We still walked.
I find it easier to walk. No uncomfortable silences, only the noise of breathing in the cold air. Thank you, for making the seconds last. Life is only short, therefore we must move slowly.
You asked me to write this a long time ago. Now, nearly a month later, I'll admit that I cheated and read your words before I should. They made me smile, and stop to think. It made sense to me. It wasn't strange, the words on the paper. A synopsis of my scrambled thoughts combined with yours. What colour is your mind? And, if you were a shade of blue, what colour would you be? I don't remember what happened on this day, but I remember what you wrote and I remember your eyes and the words we spoke together.
The immense sense of relief. Nerves that have been building up unnoticed for weeks now, causing painful knotted stomachs. The sharp intake of breath, slight scream of suprise and the lightening of the eyes are the signs to look for. The unstoppable grins that spread across unweary faces. The boys try to look nonchalant, acting as though they don't care. The girls exchange hugs and papers and hold the hands of those who have that grey, disappointed look.
It's all you really need in life these days. That and a whole lot of love.
Do sharks exist? I don't know anymore. What I do know is that I'm doing this backwards. And that I may have upset someone very important. Which I am very sorry about. Genuinely, not generally (thanks Olly). Ahh, good old creative writing.
Just trying to lighten the mood here.
And also I know nothing about cars - I made the term 'oil valve' up. Because I'm a feminist. Sort of. Don't hate me.
My body clock is still a little messed up. It's nearly 6:30pm and I'm yawning real bad. I'll be up at 3:00am. Never mind.
We stood, waiting for our ride. Breathing deep from our childish sprint down the road, smiles etched deep on our faces. Ahh, here comes the car. It turns the corner, and Emma yells out
She carries on, she hasn't seen us, up the road. Emma runs along-side her, banging on the window, yelling. Her mum doesn't notice. Emma carries on running up the road after the car.
Oh my, this is the funniest thing I've seen for a long time. The expression on your face - pure panic and desperation. Why am I laughing? You know you love it really ;)
Finally, a touch of normality. A typical do-nothing day, that started out with good intentions and ended, as it always does, with cake.
Eat the cookie jar, and blame it on the dog. Why? Because we're teenagers, and we're only ever going to regret feeling like this. And I don't want to waste one more minute of my life on regret. Life moves very fast, therefore we must go very slowly. Try to make it last. There's no point regretting one second more, because we're all under one sun and a million beautiful stars. Dare to dream it.
Did you know it's a sin to tell a lie?
I didn't. Not those little white lies that everyone tells, to save someone's feelings, or get a friend out of trouble. Not those little half-truths that make sense but don't quite tell the whole story. I didn't know that they were sins too.
So I made a decision. No more. That night I undressed with care, and stood under the warm water of the shower until I felt truly cleansed of sin. I washed and brushed my hair, and lay down to sleep. I didn't dream.
Full moon. Crisp, chilled air, forming pale clouds in front of me every time I gasp. Darkness. All around, in every street, but not every house. It's quiet, apart from the music ringing in my ears, matching my pace. Matching the way my feet touch the ground. Walking alone down the street at night, laughs still listening in my head, smiles still sitting on my face. Contented. Pacing along under the rich full moon, howling when I thing no one can hear, running when I think no one can see. I like the dark, and the chilling peace it brings.
If I could spread my thoughts across a canvas... if I could see them before me in all their vibrant colours and sounds and screams. If I could move them, sort them, decide between them. If I could be rid of the memories I don't need, if I could update them into science equations just before exams. If I could scroll through them while I walked, if I could think before I spoke. If I could manipulate my thoughts as if they were not thoughts at all....
Then I wouldn't be human. I would be a perfect robot.
Ok, that's embarrassing. He'd threatened to say it, of course, but I didn't think he actually would. So I'm sorry for what he said, and I'll eat him slowly if you like, but I'm apologising for him now. Why? Because I know he won't do it for himself.
A tricky character. That's what they call them, people who you like but, for some reason, it seems like you rub them up the wrong way. They never respond the way you think, or make things easy. Maybe they don't know, maybe they don't care. I guess I'll never know. Probably a good thing.
It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside,
I'm not one of those who can easily hide,
I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do,
My gift is my song and this one's for you
And you can tell everybody, this is your song,
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind,
that I put down in words,
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
They walk, together, along new streets and crowded streets and streets that everyone knows. Up back alleys and drive ways (oops) and sometimes they walk them twice. They go round in circles and never stop talking, laughing, smiling. At one point she covers her hand with her mouth, tries not to laugh. When she arrives she stands beside him while he looks the other way. They talk about all those embarrassing times, that everyone has.
She has to leave, and they hug goodbye and go their separate ways. I know she smiles to herself as she walks away.
I get tired, and upset
And Iím trying to care a little less
And on Google I only get depressed I was taught to dodge those issues, I was told:
Donít worry, thereís no doubt
Thereís always something to cry about
When youíre stuck in an angry crowd
They donít think what they say before they open their mouth,
Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And bury them beneath the sea
I donít care what the people may say
What the people may say bout me.
Pack up your troubles get your old grin back
Donít worry about the cavalry
I donít care what the whisperers say
'Cause they whisper too loud for me
"What is the opposite of lol?"
I'm sorry that I rain on your sunshine, but together we make a rainbow.
I'll try not to do it again, sometime, but I can't promise that even though
You make me smile
Even when I'm only with you for a while
And I can't deny
You make my eyes as blue as the sky...
Because the sun shines every day, even on the days when the rain gets in the way,
And there are always bluebirds singing somewhere.
Side by side they sit, earphones in, eyes closed. As one they open their mouths and sing. They sing about a flood, and men standing on the boundry. They sing about broken relationships and tears run dry. No one cares that the song was by Take That, and that the singers are two boys sitting at the back of a bus. No one cares that they are out of tune, out of time. They make me smile, because they believe in the song they are singing. And because they have no shame, at all. They're happy. That makes me smile.
Won't you try to help me?
Sat on the sofa, it's old broken springs.
Hearing the sweet sound of violin strings.
I form a smile and aim it at you,
but you miss it again, like you always do.
Only it's too hard to ask,
Won't you try to help me?
Piano keys, and violin strings. Harpsichord whispers and the music takes wing.
Guitar strums and banging of drums,
Maybe a voice or two or three or a choir of angels. Maybe we can sing together, all of us.
It was good, standing in the freezing cold with him, with faint snow falling all around, and laughing about the stupidity of our situation. It was a Led Zeppelin kind of good, filled with unstoppable smiles, jazz music, shared laughter over silly things. We enjoy each otherís company, him and I, although weíd never admit it.
Then, in the evening, the creation of a converse wearing rat. I got to dance round in purple stripy socks, and laugh at Isaac's tail and whiskers (which were very amazing). Emma and I jumped on cardboard, and I delighted in the art of grinning.
I could sit and whisper sweet nothing into
your ear, try to fill the endless space with
stars, pinpricks of knowlage, dreams
from my own (far smaller) galaxy.
They would light up a little of
a universe, and you would maybe understand
how a single thinker can change a thought.
But after a time all things, my thoughts
included, would blur at the edges and fade.
I cannot fear the silence for it is inevitable... a
little like all things spinning in
cirlces, or rotary motion on the hands
of a clock that eats time.
Time eats away all silences.
Spent the day walking around, head filled with thoughts and surrounded by a halo of plaits. Hopefully it'll work, and my plans for tomorrow will flow seamlessly.
I spent 4 hours doing nothing but physics, and I liked it. I'm really scared now... what if I listen to myself and actually take it as an A level? What will I do? We can only hope that my teacher will advise me not to - I dote upon his very creed.
Strumming a few chords on bass, humming as I go. Listening to the morning glory, pale and warm in sunlight.
Bent double, gasping for breath. All the chavs are going to be sent to the moon!!!! Which is made of 15 floorboards and was taken over by Ningas from Hamleys (which doesn't sell ham). You won't understand because you had to be there. Ballet shoes, smiles and a french sheep. I still can't stop laughing. Without friends we are lonely, and loneliness is... a waste of time. That's all. If you don't like it, change it or learn to like it. I like it on the wooden parrot stand, and I'll miss you when you go - because you'll have to go.
A slightly more interesting look than usual. It earned me a few smiles in the right places. I almost felt lighter, skippity. January might be over, but although I want to take each step back and do it again, I'm also eager to be on my way. I had a good conversation. Latin produced laughs, as it always does. I'm loving life right now. I try to spend every second reminding myself that these are the best days of my life. I think it again as my hands skim over the keys, and my feet point. The best days of life.
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