This time last year a soft spoken small person of a height four foot ten sat by the edge of the bed.

Iron held in an iron grip. Ready to rip lines, rip-roaringly along the creased, now-greaseless, handkerchief.

Glancing quickly out of a smaller window in the top right corner of the room, they followed a quick stream of yellow, dust dancing in the light against the pale wall.

The pale wall had an Outside side, and outside there lay a slightly less vertically inhibited individual sprawled stomach down, down, down on the ground.

The light glinted off the single metal bangle dangling on their hand as they manhandled the grass and attempted to sink lower than low, slower than the glinting blinking light on their limbs.

Head turned every so slightly sideways, ears pressed deep into the land they hummed and murmured, mumbled and heard a softer rumbling sound in the distance.

In that distance, during that very instance, storm clouds rode furiously inward, toward a rather more expansive person, expensively laid out on a bench with flowers in their hands.

Their gown flowed down towards the dangling difference between their nose in the sky and their thighs on the side, with the petals darkening and with the clouds now growling closer and deeper.

Their eyes shone apart as they stared down the greying light, brightly glaring back at them, and oh what a fright, as right there and then, the sky cracked open, Oh lords, Oh Heavens! they squealed as the sights began to roll in.

Roll Tape. “So where should I begin?”

I am now.here.

After an initial hesitance,  I motioned towards the bike leaning charmingly by the fence of the park. No, that’s not how it was. Let me start again. I was walking home. Long road, crunchy gravel, listless night and startling footsteps. Bus to the train to the car to the side to the, what? If dusk was the golden hour, then this was about on the level of emeralds. Deep purple skies and an ever so slightly damp road under my bare feet. Don’t ask. I’m still a bit hazy on the details.

I’d finally decided to detour through the side street. Good move, yeah, I know. The park began. The grating grilling iron fence stood out as though sitting on the base of a pop up book. I half expected the ground under me to start turning, the camera to zoom out to a visual of me walking on a turning wheel based on said book. You know the kind I mean. Like the one in that song, where that girl singer-songwriter person plays the guitar and sings with a spring and a smile echoes on her lips and she knows exactly how much to part those lips as she sighs. I begun to whistle.

Heard a rumbling sound in the distance and assumed it was going to rain. I hoped it would rain. My feet were getting a bit sore from the still hot tarmac. How could the road retain so much heat after so long? I don’t know, I remember reading somewhere about how cities are like heat sinks and that the temperature in the heart of a city can be even a couple of degrees hotter than further out in the less dense areas. Who would have thought that we would have concrete sponges. Seems almost fitting though that the heart of the city would be hotter than the outskirts. Like a pulsating core. The city would then become a tacky metaphor for life and how at the center of our beings lies some red loving. Screw that. I waited for that rain instead.

A gush of wind and leaves and fury spun me suddenly and I was left wondering what just happened. I steadied myself against the fence stakes only to be facing a plain bike about ten stakes down. It’s reflectors blinked blankly at me. I was being looked up and down, sized up, judged, weighed and graded by it. I was not pleased. With a just as sudden change of attitude the bike slumped casually against the fence. It seemed I passed. This is where I tried to start earlier. Because, really, it was a rather charming bike. No seriously, I feel that really is the best way to describe it’s behaviour. Charming. I felt motioned towards. So I did motion towards. I approached it with a slight backstep. As in my feet dragged behind, unwilling participants in my attempts at curiosity.

I slowly grasped the left handlebar, and the tassels swayed softly in the wind. Ran my hand down the cool metal, sleek, green tinge. The seat sprung up and purred quietly. Wide wheels yawned below and rolled a bit, gently under the pressure of my touch. A quick white basket was strapped smartly up front and what seemed to be a lone speaker, apparently on, was snugly tucked into the corner of it. I tugged at the bike a bit, and it willingly turned along. Pushing it up the gradual slope, I was urged on by it. Now walking, jogging, running, bolting tumbling after it up the hill, pulling away from the side walk and park to the centre of the wide split road.

As I hit the top, my feet swung into the air, right slipping swiftly on the first pedal, left leg flying over the back of the seat, landing fervently onto the other. The gears swung as they pleased, the bike churned ahead. I was the rumble. The furious turning of wheels and person perched atop.

I was the flight. This is your captain speaking, we are now cruising at ten thousand miles above Oh-My-Happiness. As we finally left the park, I fingered through my pockets looking for something to gnaw on. Thinking is always better with something to chew on. Even thoughtless thinking. My careless pedaling was subconscious and I followed as the bike led. Wandering, meandering thinking. Balancing on the other hand is an issue when rummaging through yourself. Broken toothpick, found, discarded. I thumbed a music-player in my pocket and it conveniently snapped into the plugs on the speakers.

Found: One Player. Done.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Definetely Done.

I was was the wind now.

They’re not in the bones, not in the hearts,

they’re starting to move, groaning apart.

The creepers, they smear, seep into the lungs,

comforting sounds, asunder, above.

Have them away, having their way,

coming along, coming away.

Stopping them now, stopping the strays,

watching them grow, awake and ablaze.

Noises, they’re louder, white, blue and green,

noises are louder, those that can be seen.

Quieting verses, throw them away,

awash in the sea, god saved them anyway?

(non-content comment: … right.)

She had words inscribed upon her back. Thick letters, bold and dark. Fat vowels and lengthy consonants. Voluminous text filling the gap between shoulder and hip. In silence even the quietest sounds seem as though a screaming echo. No. Screams are terrifying sounds. More like a deep throaty echo, reassuring and distant. I think that’s it.

The silences falls heavy upon my ears this night. Occasional grunts of a sleeping dog, squealing brakes and the sigh of trees come in ill-spaced batches.

sip sip. water. gulp. sip sip. water. sigh.

I watched The Fountain yet again. It was beautiful. An awning of a tragedy; of dying and death, being alive and what’s important. Reality and escapism, hopes and practicality. Still amazing. Still a crazy half lit dream.

The silence falls heavy upon my ears. The sound of silence, muffled steam. There it is again, ever so urgently, pressing against your head. Ever so firmly, willing you to acknowledge its existence. Its presence. An all pervading wisp. Silent quiet. Muffled steam.

I have this image. The music sounds and objects around me become animated. Dance! My pens slide with the guitar out of their tidy encasements. They fling themselves at the wall with the shake of a tambourine. The chairs lean back, thump down, turn on the left back leg, thump down! Down! They swing like this with the bass line. Dummmm dum dum dum dum dummmm dummmm. The lights pick up twick twack. You! On! Off! Me! Dancing!

Stop! Everything pauses as the curtain lifts up and sighs. Then Bang! The mug smashes into the wall ahead and the beat picks back up again. The keys clack clackety clack. The water bottle rolls thundering across the table plateau, the top Pop! Water swooshing, fountain cascading lighter twinkles. Pens smash into the ceiling, rhythmically and ink splatters down, pitter pattering.

And there I am, sitting watching with a strange grin, amused, elated, excited by the effect of music on stillness.