mozambique

“pete had disappeared some time before, so ian cycled home alone. he went slowly, wanting to hang on to the feeling of detachment that had taken him over. a state of not-being. a state of no-time. no past, no present, no future. no decisions. he thought it would be good to stay like that for the rest of his life.”

- the other side of the bridge

at this early hour everything is one. the most beautiful harmonies on every level. as if nature is resting. renewing herself. the sparkle of the last of the evening’s stars are fading slowly in the purple western sky. the wind is just a whisper. the sea soft and smooth and cool. the dark swells, that had originated hours ago and miles away, out in the infinite ocean somewhere, back in somebody’s past, roll gently to shore.

the water rushes over your head and slips down your cheeks back into the sea. and it washes away all the world and all certainty. all truths slip through your fingers. you’re just an observer. outside the natural order of things. you’re everything that’s not. and nothing and nobody could ever know. and you hope with all your heart that they could understand. but you know they never will. you’re so isolated. and it’s so beautifully sad. and you wish it would last forever.

and then, sometime just before the end of forever, the sun of the new day peeps over the horizon. red and pink and orange and yellow. and you catch a distorted glimpse of yourself in the silver sea and you remember. and the warmth and the colours lift you and replace you into the one that is everything. and joy, great, high, as wide as all the world, swells inside your heart and brings a smile to your face. and you hum to yourself: the weight - the band. and you just know everything will be alright.