Wednesday, 25 April 2012


I want to write a book, or make a movie. I have so many thoughts that writing them all down in notebooks just isn't enough for me. I'm beginning to think nothing will ever satisfy me, except those fleeting moments where I find myself watching the horizon across a body of water.

The sky was grey, but the air was warm. I was headed to my boyfriend's, but on the way I was torn off path, and went down to a private beach off the main road. Taking the braid out of my hair, I stood at the edge of the water. It was one of those times you feel like you can actually breathe. In my Doc Martins I stepped onto the rock farthest from shore and knelt down, stooping forward to soak my hair completely under the water. I Followed Fires by Matthew & The Atlas played in my head. When I straightened myself and pushed my hair from my face, I stood for a while dripping on the rocks. Sometimes you stare into the distance and your eyes don't want to look away. Eventually though, I pulled my hood over my head as my hair soaked my neck, and went back up to the road.

Then it started to downpour, so by the time I got there, nothing was out of the ordinary.

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