Lazy

The heat of a thousand soups is warming this island. It's cool and quiet in my room, but I can feel the heat crashing in heavy waves on the walls. I lie back and put my hands under my head, watching the fan swing lazily, dragging a cobweb behind it.

I think about going outside. But I'm still very tired. And the thought of all those people sweating and rushing around in that sticky air makes me uneasy. I don't know a single one of them. Where do I start?

Nature Calls

I slept in my sleeping bag, on the floor in the middle of my room, and it took on new dimensions. I felt like I was seeing it for what it really was: a little box of wood, brick and plaster, every inch of which I have travelled countless times, unthinking.

I'm leaving now.

Ach, this sensless fear born of routine... I'll leave the Veronia on the sill for you.


Perhaps I'll write. I like the idea that my words will travel without me, in the holds of rusted old ships and passing through the tired hands of postal workers the world over before they get to you. Okay, nature calls, haha. Bye.

This Empty Room

Like it always does, the sun bursts through my dusty window. All that's left is a Veronia on the windowsill, beautiful and still. I'm tired of this empty room. Tomorrow, I'm leaving.

The Seed

We who are still gripped by the power of big ideas.

Take the cash you pour down your throats or filter through your lungs, and all the cash you exchange for ordinary sushi handrolls and unloved salads. Think of how much it all is. Turn it into a seed, and keep feeding it.

Keep feeding it. Stay strong.

I'll have a library out of this, wood paneled from wood i sanded and oiled myself, each novel inscribed on the date it was purchased in the Paperback Bookshop on Collins Street. I'll have a house in the fold of a mountain, with heavy scented grass pushing up against the back fence and gravel at the doorstep.

The three of us will drive in convoy, three sleek Ferraris hugging mountain roads like lizards. It'll be cold when we return, and we'll open wine and invite women and listen to music, while outside nothing's happening for miles.

It will be morning, again and again. But we know its more than just that.