I believe in the night
Yeah so I'm back or whatever and man, I don't know. Is there any point? My unintentional computer sabbatical has left me wondering, do the kids over at The Only have it right? Is that how they stay so positive and free from the traps of sarcasm and cynicism? Because right now it seems like "news" only happens in the winter. I've spent the last few weeks breaking onto roofs and wandering around aimlessly.
I'm a traveler again. Alone in my city for the first time. I will have my coffee to stay. Take my time. Smear the dirt and the smells of back alleys on my clean clothes, get lost in the mire of moss cracked industry. In Belfast, after the troubles, I was there, and I was lost, and I grew strong and bold, booking beds in hostels, buying books of bus tickets. Or, when the walls opened, and the siege was lifted, and the Apprentice Boys stood aside, I walked the old city of Londonderry, confident and proud among the paint-splattered outposts and martyred walls. Now I drift. I wander to live. I let the city's doors open, I listen to the whispers in the cobblestones, I follow the underground streams to their source, like a sockeye, I've been here before. Only this time, I've grown even bigger, in a spiral outwards, drawing in the detritus of seasons. Count the rings, you'll see, its all circular, Fibonacci was telling the truth. Even in smoke and mirrors there are smoke and mirrors. Mother, please believe me, like you believed in me once before, I will smash them again, these mirrors.
I'm a traveler again. Alone in my city for the first time. I will have my coffee to stay. Take my time. Smear the dirt and the smells of back alleys on my clean clothes, get lost in the mire of moss cracked industry. In Belfast, after the troubles, I was there, and I was lost, and I grew strong and bold, booking beds in hostels, buying books of bus tickets. Or, when the walls opened, and the siege was lifted, and the Apprentice Boys stood aside, I walked the old city of Londonderry, confident and proud among the paint-splattered outposts and martyred walls. Now I drift. I wander to live. I let the city's doors open, I listen to the whispers in the cobblestones, I follow the underground streams to their source, like a sockeye, I've been here before. Only this time, I've grown even bigger, in a spiral outwards, drawing in the detritus of seasons. Count the rings, you'll see, its all circular, Fibonacci was telling the truth. Even in smoke and mirrors there are smoke and mirrors. Mother, please believe me, like you believed in me once before, I will smash them again, these mirrors.











More...
Suggest a Link
