26.03.09

By fifteen, [name] was hurting, and drinking to ease the pain.

By [age], [name] was hurting, and drinking to ease the pain.

By [age], [name] was [verb], and [verb] to [verb] the pain.

By [age], [name] was [verb], and [verb] to [verb] [state].

[age] [name] [verb] [verb] [verb] [state]

[person][act][state]

[relation]

25.03.09

Today the sun has added a drop of lemon to the proceedings - a hazy drip, sharpening the taste but clouding the clear. The sea looks on, brittle, bleaching.

24.03.09

Today the horizon is an oppressive stack of manuscripts, compressed under their own weight, layers of differently finished and gauged pages gently merging, spines flattened, edges inexpertly cut. The sea is the deepest strata, where letters and words have melted into each other, diluting the black text with the white spaces in between.

20.03.09

Today a man is urinating on a neighbour's car's door-handle, while the very same neighbour approaches in her second, different, very small red car, intent upon merely grazing the man mid-micturition, confident that her tiny vehicle can do no real damage. A purple sky, a puerile scene, a passer-by photographs the invisible sea and a disturbance of the peace.

19.03.09

Today the dust has appeared. It happens sooner than this, usually. A few months of being pocketed in winter, a false spring, and then the dust. The sky is an indistinct dry grey. The sea is an ancient mirror, leeching black flowers at the edges, muffled under fluff.

18.03.09

Today is a bright morning with long shadows, a day's early summer before the trees know what's going on, while the air is unusually cold early because it'll be unusually warm later. This time of year has the faint horror of being young and right.

17.03.09

Today there's nothing to spoil the view. We're entirely focused, directed directly at everything in hand. The sea shines brightly on the sky, the sky is benign, passive - a feature in a shaded glass, like a milky tea in those smoky glass coffee cups from your childhood, where the aura of science could be demonstrated by watching the tendrils of red leech out of a teabag.