Tuesday, June 15
5:30am: A triste moon hangs deep in the sky, aware that the curtain is drawing on its fleeting moment of glory. The heavens gradually lighten, hinting at the smooth azure day soon to come. As streetlights flicker out over a silent plain, the surrounding mountains begin to emerge from the shadows, dwarfing all before them. The world is desolate, save for the chorus of birds heralding out the night.
It’s at times like this that I just feel glad to be part of it all, to drink in the vastness, to savour the stillness, to be alive.
I think I’m still drunk.
Thursday, June 10
Man to girlfriend: "I am sorry, for I am about to shout and swear like a tramp coming off meths."
Tuesday, June 1
As her eyelids started softly trembling, several bloated teardrops pooled on her eyelashes. They remained suspended there for an instant, unsure as whether to let go. Then, decision taken, they began their short descent towards obliteration.