Something to do with the sea, and the way she curls into a ball whilst sleeping. The taste of the ocean air, the moisture that rests upon my flesh. With sunshine illuminating the shore, my mind drifts away to all those lost moments. I can’t say what they are, for that would destroy the magic, but every time I close my eyes, the scenes come alive once more. Dancing and euphoric, melancholic and empty. Somewhere between heaven and purgatory, a place where everything that ever existed shimmers with beauty like the song ‘Dazzle’ by Siouxsie & The Banshees. Or the feeling of gazing into the eyes of the one you love. Beyond all expectations and useless scenarios. Beyond the futures of war and finely maintained façades, nothing makes you feel more alive than looking into the eyes of the one who sets your heart alight. Something to do with stardust and the urge to belong. Something concerning lost souls and creation. Laying in bed with aching bones and a blocked nose, I travel the layers of my past looking for symbols and finding refuge in a secluded room away from the insects. Embraces and riddles. Linked fingers and intimacy, sheltered from the outside world by a thick duvet. It’s snowing outside, or at least it should be. Photographs of her smile, from a time before the great fall. Getting up and looking out the window, the neon horizon leaves me in awe of it all. To wonder what’s waiting for me there, to imagine how things will be. In my madness, everything exists at the same time, there’s no other way. There are no boundaries, no beginning or ends. We merge and dissolve. We are infinite in our pleasures. In our forms, we know nothing of exits. Open doors and green hillsides. The abandonment of summer afternoons, of being stood by the river and watching as the world revolves in perfect harmony. Slipping into visions I swore not to describe, I run a bath and soak myself for the best part of an hour. Sipping a beer, I listen to music not visualizing anything, but instead recalling numerous smells from the past. The way old rooms used to taste, the way emotions used to be so edible. I want to grow my beard. It makes me looks homeless and mentally ill, but it also brings me closer to nature. Good nature of course, not cancer and shit like that. My hand hurts, maybe the first signs of arthritis, bad nature giving me a glimpse of the first steps to an inevitable demise. None of this feels real, but I know that it must. Stepping outside into the dim back garden, I smoke a cigarette but immediately regret it. My head soon spinning and throat becoming dry, I retreat back to my room and lay down. The sound of crashing waves getting louder and louder, there’s nothing I can do but surrender to my senses. Curling up into a ball, I imagine what her eyes look like as the touch of her fingers jump to me from across the swirling plains of wonder. Something to do with the sea. The way the ocean sprays my heavy head and the way the sunken ships of yesterday call my name, begging me to help them see the light of day once more. Everything dazzles and leaves me blind, in the most glorious possible way.