Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Walking home tonight

I smelled fresh laundry mixed with heat from neon and kebabs and curry and perfume of that girl I passed and grease and salt from the pizza place. And people walked past me in a slow wave. And I felt remote from the things around me and the people near me. And I saw the moon and it is always beautiful and always the same. I start to think about how breathing in and out is all there is to it all really. As long as you can breathe in and out, in and out. Come the second you can't well then it's game over and the jig is up and it's curtains for you mate and you won't get to breathe in cut grass or taste an August night that's cooling into autumn fresh or see a bat or feel how it feels to wonder what if.

And I don't want that.

I want to breathe in and out.

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