pink-cat20

It is too easy to become a passenger, reclined in the soft leather car seat.  Back seat, window staring.  Music washes over, taking over the world.  It becomes difficult to tell if it is the engine propelling the car forward, or the tempo of the music.  The streetlights strobe past and the volume increases, always increases.  Volume and speed building, it cannot keep on, how can it keep on?  The journey hypnotises, shapes rush past out in the darkness, lights, images.  Still the music and the engine press on, always pressing on.  Still this feeling of detatchment remains, nothing around is real.  Only the mind is real.

The girl hears the chink of metal on concrete.  It makes her want to throw her keys off the bridge onto the path below.  She does not know how long she has been standing here.  So numb that she does not even notice the cold deadness in her feet.  The girl can’t remember the last time she felt something.  Eventually she turns, hunching her shoulders, hands in the bottom of her pockets.  Home is a long walk, but she does not care.  There is nothing else to do.  She remembers a time when there was always something to do, something to look forward to; something to be.  Mother always said you can be anything you put your mind to, and she beli

This is not a happy story; this is a story about life.  What is life but an endless series of coincidences?  I don't believe in fate, but everyone needs to believe in something, to cling to something.  It was coincidence that brought us together – a chance meeting.  More than that – we in turn were born of coincidence.  We literally ran into each other and from that moment on, my life changed.  Her sulky, stubborn, beautiful ways exploded into my life.  I learnt what it was to love and hate at the same time, with such passion.  I understood momentarily, the universe in all its complex glory.  But this is not a story about love either.  Of cou