Six Nine

It’s been six months since I spoke to you.

But I know you went to the concert of your favourite band last month when they came to the nearby city. I know that you wore grey and charcoal with white floral embroidery to your cousin’s reception the month before that. I know you celebrated your friend’s birthday last week and took three shots of vodka cheers. I also know that you had scrambled eggs over waffles and, fresh orange juice for breakfast today at the cafe two blocks away, in your black tracks and white tee.

Creeks and, Blankets

It’s a quarter away to eighteen and the sun’s making its way to the horizon. I make my way out of the house and onto the streets, towards the seas or maybe somewhere else. I walk towards the main road and then take three steps back to go ahead to the alleys behind, take another two steps and trace them back to take the main road. There’s uncertainty in my feet today that take steps of restlessness. The sky’s gone from orange to pink. I’ve reached the park and for a minute I slow down, giving my racing heart a chance to slow down too. It smells of wet grass and ice-cream. I sit down in the centre of the empty bench, assuring myself single occupancy. I cross my legs over and, take two deep breaths and place my right palm over my chest. Still racing. You can see the creek from here and the lights dancing on it in graceful choreography. Perhaps today, we don’t meet the sea. Perhaps today, we meet the creek.

Project : Trace Lines

This gallery contains 11 photos.