Sunday Brixton Snapshot

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Can the sound of a road turn into a riverlike comfort? I fall asleep to it now, contemplating with my ears, the swooshing by of cars, waves, coming and going.

A guy cat called me today, the English way. I was walking back from yoga and a young guy in hoodie crossed the road to say “Excuse me, good morning! Do you have a boyfriend?”

My South African neighbour with the two kids hugs me when we meet on the stairs, then tells me to have some children of my own. Maybe I will.

The Merman takes me to central to meet his friend for icecream, we have vegan pistachios and black as night chocolates. Then wander around in dizzying crowds until we’re drained.

Back home is the sound of the river road, and a dear friend’s voice from far away, like small silver bells.

Liquid nights

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Some places are sweeter to

drink in

than others

Mont Martre

Paris, Lapa, Rio

always with no roof

so the stars can freely

dust you dreamy

while spirits melt the city

and turn you liquid too

to sway into the night

to transmute energies

of the Wonder who

rips apart

artists

and other

receptive souls

Pigneto 

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“Come oooon, let’s go to bed already!”

“Babe, just go ahead, I’ll be in in a bit”

“No, but I wanna lay down with you”

He smacks me on the bum. He’s the man. Men are soft when their hearts are on fire. Lone boats sail around looking for home, for earth, some turn pirates from salt water and desperation and start robbing. Others pilgrims, striders, or even lovers of the big sea keeping them afloat and the stars that lead them.

But even the lovers look for earth, and when they spot it on the horizon they tremble with longing, hope, and the most crushing of fears.

I kiss the ocean-heart of my merman  husband, full of stars and space. I can wrap myself in his arms at night and float around in universes in infinity. Until he starts kicking me in his sleep and I slip into another bed to dream. Who do you run from, in your sleep, my love? 

Tenderness makes my skin sweat honey, where he doesn’t drink it, it evaporates to perfume to air. 

Last night in Dublin

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By the time I’ve removed glitter, mascara and smog from my face its 23:00. I change into pajamas and make a cup of herbal tea I brought back from home last time, and think of my childhood friend who always stock this particular blend in his kitchen cabinet.

I can’t connect to the hotel wifi so I switch on the hotspot on my phone and look at the time again, consider what time I should get up tomorrow. I need to pack my backpack and have breakfast before 11. 8 o’clock should do. 

Nathaniel is taking my Mac and phone to the office so it doesn’t have to stay in my unlocked room while we are on holiday. We may get new roomies in the meantime. 

This means I won’t have my Mac Friday night though, and I need to do my expenses before the weekend. I can do them in the morning, but then I would have to get up quite early. Giuliano wanted to go for an ocean dip in the morning as well, but since she is still out I think the pressure is off.

The chat connects, there are 63 messages from the crazy kids still at the bar, now another one. Two team mates are already back at the hotel though, having admin/PJ party like myself. I rub the lenses of my glasses to remove a stain, then send a selfie to the group chat. I check my personal phone, Loverman aka Merman has not replied yet, did he go to bed without texting me goodnight? I message mum and a friend, then leave it next to me.

I find the receipts I have already sorted for last week first. Personal phone vibrates, its Merman telling me goodnight. I smile and crawl a bit deeper under the covers.


Inhabiting space

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3pm slow Sunday. Sitting in a log in Brockwell park, eyes closed in anti social peace. Tall skinny guy in rubber boots with dog stops by, says 

– Hi, peaceful right. Great. Not from England? Holiday? Live close to here? 

– Yeah, no, its been a few years. Denmark, local now.

– Got a place close to here, fancy a drink? Som’in sweet?

-No thanks, case closed.

Rest eyes on trea, the other way, will go away. But cirkles back behind me, closer.

– Ur very pretty, what’s ur name?

– Maria, gotta go, bye.

– U want a drink? I got cocaine? Sex?

– No. No. Definetely not.

Yuule

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Morning of the 26th I wake up from two cats jumping on my bed, and a phone conversation of the only roomie left behind in my friend’s appartment who came home from night shift at a hotel. I get up and stumble down the stairs to fumble for the cat food with half open eyes and two eager creatures dancing around my feet. My man leaves to go get food for later at another friend’s house, I make coffee and heat up chicken tikka from yesterday. Its the most quiet it has been the whole year, I’ve spent 48 hours in Pjs and cuddles. We could have rushed to be with my family, I know my man would have gone to his people if they hadn’t been so far, but I’ve gravitated towards peace again this year, acknowledging how precious it is to have 48 pristine and stressless hours, just this once a year.