The warmth of sleeping in until long into the afternoon. The comfort of no work and no people and no need to be coherent. Ever seen The Goonies? That 80’s kids film where they go on an adventure searching for treasure? Every time I sit down and write, your body is the adventure, and your heart the treasure that sends me far and wide in search of where it hides. Am I too much of a child and not enough of a man? Of course, but there’s no fear and there’s no shame only these footsteps they tried convincing me held no meaning. But babe, these footsteps are heavy and I’ve known it right from the start, and much to their disappointment, they’ll continue in the wrong direction until I drop. Still feels impossible to me, y’know? The idea of not being here anymore. I’ve known so many that have died, and yet it still doesn’t feel real. All my grandparents are dead. My daughter’s dead. Even a few kids I went to school with. I’ve seen so many die on the internet I almost feel like a god, and yet my own demise still doesn’t seem possible. It’ll probably be cancer, but who can say? Could be a crash or a knife fight? Or how about a future lover doing me in while I sleep? No doubt sick and tired of my infuriating ways and unable to put up with me any longer. There’s the past that pulls me in. That pretends it can give me what I want only to leave me dry, and then there’s the future that offers only that inevitable demise. What a choice. And yet what else is there? My favourite scent when it comes to candles? Yeah, I’m gonna be boring and say vanilla. It conjures the taste of your breasts and the back of your neck for sure. And the colour; it always speaks to me of those endless Sunday afternoons by the beach when I was a boy in love with toys and sandcastles and the smell of doughnuts that seemed to carry in the breeze for miles up and down the shore.