Ed’s canopy (part 2)

  • Do you see it?
  • Holy shit!
  • I know. What the fuck do you think it is?
  • I… I don’t know… What do we do? – She was making a freakishly enormous amount of effort not to panic and alert that thing to their presence.
  • I think… I think we should wait… I don’t know… fuck!

The thing was some kind of dog… no… no, definitely not a dog; it was a lot bigger than any dog they had ever seen plus, Pete was pretty sure translucent skin wasn’t part of any breed’s traits, but definitely the most… unnatural thing about it was the faint glow radiating from his bones allowing them to see every bit of muscle movement, joint bending and…

  • Oh god! It’s that a cat in is…
  • Yhea… yes, I think it is Alice.

Both kids were breathing heavily and had their eyes stuck on the monstrous figure which kept on sniffing between the roots, slowly strolling over stones and fallen branches progressively illuminating each bit of forest around him.

  • Alice, come. – Pete said decisively, grabbing Alice by the wrist. Then they both started to crawl around the massive sequoia bark in order to create a barrier between them and the beast. Now pressed against the other side of the tree with hearts pounding in unison and lungs gasping for air, both, Pete and Alice couldn’t even hear a gun shot more than 50 meters away let alone keep track of the animal’s position.
  • Shit… it… fuck… this was a bad idea.
  • Pete- She grabbed his face. And looked to where she imagined his brown eyes were.- Look at me. We’re gonna run when I s…- Suddenly she didn’t have to imagine his eyes, anymore. She could see him progressively clearer at every second that passed. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heart weighed a hundred kg inside her chest and when they both looked away from each other, into the light source, it was like it fell into the ground and shattered completely. In front of them, breathing heavily, stood a car sized dog, eyes obscured by the luminescence of his skull, it growled.
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Ed’s canopy

There the sun was no main attraction, with leaves slowly dancing above the mixture of twigs, mud and rotten roots on the forest grounds; its light felt feeble and its warmth could not penetrate the eerie sanctuary. Two kids dressed in jeans and worn out leather jackets were leaning on an 80 meters tall sequoia tree. Alice was looking up:

  • It’s ours, and we should name it.
  • What d’you wanna call it? –Pete was looking down trying to roll a cigarette.
  • Ed…- she looked like she was giving it some serious thought. – yhea… I wanna call it Ed- She looked at Pete smiling, bravado all over her face dripping from the little wrinkles near the eyes. He looked up at her, putting the cigarette in the back pocket of his jeans.
  • Come here.- grabbing her by the waist, Pete leaned in for a kiss
  • Ed, hu?
  • – Alice kept grinning – definitely Ed.
  • Ed it is. – He smiled, gently placing a cigarette in her mouth.

They had been sitting under Ed’s canopy for hours and the sun had completely disappeared by now. Peter started to shiver as Alice slept, head resting on his lap, her golden hair spread out, covering everything that ever existed.

  • Hey, Alice. Wake up. Come on wake up.
  • What? – She stretched, looking at him with slightly squinted eyes and a big open mouth of pearly white teeth.
  • Look. – He pointed in front of him. With his back pressed against the bark and eyes fixed dead ahead, Pete helped her sit straight.
  • What?
  • Look right there.
  • Holy shit!

july-exhibit-redwood-2-00042

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“Rome” (with a little bit of awesome music to help me out with the feeling transmiting stuff going on in here, hopefully)

Eyes empty, lips pressed, pain dripping slowly from his ears. There, in the garden, the man stood. On top of a poorly decorated pedestal the man stood, the man, the memory, the piece; stone arms fallen weary, broken nose and mossy knees. The proud look had grown tired and the curiosity broken free. His world was no more than a swing and a fallen broken tree. Slightly crooked, laurel wreath hanging tight fighting the last of the hail stones as some piece of past glory reminiscence, but down there, close to cobbles: feet shaking, ankles sore. With teary eyes and cracking skin of marble (ancient) the old portrait, memory, stone began to kneel. Last breath nigh, he screamed so incredibly high, driving sword and anger through the soil he’s brain began to boil. “I am not a statue. I’m now nothing, I only was” That said the piece fell down, crumbling into a proud little mountain of dusty rubble. Now the park feels lighter and the birds ROME free, the tree’s brunches  open up breaking the ties with the past and all is freaking NOW at last.

 

 

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Pouring / deafening

final _DSC0792 abcd

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A storm of feet

It was a storm of feet, dirty shoes flying like drunken bees, bumping against every bit of sane tissue in my body. Inside my mouth no words remained not anymore; only bitter dust and a scarce amount of leftover teeth. I figured I was dead, no, I couldn’t be, the pain was too sour and the voices to loud. The blood kept on pouring like winter rains, but I couldn’t find a single soothing window pane, no thunder sounds to listen to, or hail, but the lightning was immense like a night sky of dying stars and fast lanes. It was indeed a spectacular ending for this fucking Broadway show. “Please mister, just close the curtains already. I’ll take as many bows as you like, I’ll make them low, as low as you like, my lips will touch the ground… heck! I will eat the earth’s core if you just… if you just… if you… please mister just close the curtains…”

Silence was among us, so heavy no little crack or tiny buzz could even start to form. “This is it? This is it. This it! Really? Not even a single clap you motherfuc…”

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The drowning man

The translucent curtains swaying in the wind were the 80’s, the sunlight the 90’s.

I pushed the wine stained bed sheets to the side and looked at the watch, the watch she’d given me. 19:00h. Fuck.

An icy cold breeze ran through all the cracks, windows and doors of our… of my house.

I pulled the bed sheets up to my chin and moaned low like I was looking for the sympathy of some invisible being. I trembled, cried and fell asleep again. When I woke up the room was dark. Alone and lost, like a child figuring out the world for the first time, I watched the snowflakes soaring slowly, entering fearfully into my world of alcohol and self pity. They reflected the moonlight and appeared to weep with me in compassion, although lately everything around me seemed about to cry. The low howl of the washing machine, the regular whimpering of the microwave… in short, I was living in an enormous palace of sad, dependent and week little ghosts. I was living with myself. I was living alone.

The physiological need of warming up, reminded by the painful numbing of my feet, was the only thing that managed to rip me away from my slobbered,” wined” and maybe even a little pissed bed. I closed the window, not without slipping first on the small puddle of melting snow that had been formed underneath it and following it by a stream of nonsensical vituperation. I headed to living room then. The lights were on and there were still to logs left untouched by the flames. The embers were sizzling in a dragged and fantastically dormant way. They too were mourning. I put the logs in the middle of the fireplace and with trembling hands managed to light a fire, matter of great pride and most certainly a boast demanding one too. Within twenty minutes the house was warm again. The watch, the watch she had given me pointed to 1:20. I can’t make it until morning. I thought of all the hours and the silence. I can’t make it to sunrise. I fell asleep once more.

I woke up at seven thirty with the couch’s leather stuck to my face and half my body dormant. I boiled water, made tea and ate some biscuits. The floorboards creaked. Here’s a thing about silence: it always makes the floorboards creak and the wind blow harder. There had been a lot of silence in the last few days, floorboards and blowing wind too, so I should know.

When I left home, for the first time after the most nightmarish, depressing and feverish weekend of all break up induced ones, I had my hair wet and enough perfume on, I thought, to mask all this shitty feels and avoid awkward conversations. I got in the car decided to… well just decided, that will have to do.

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Plane spotting

Will be posting more of these on: http://www.werechasingplanesthistimepeter.wordpress.com
AIRBUS A-320-214 (VUELING) BOEING 737-8ASW (RYANAIR) SPECIAL COLOUR SCHEME (2) AIRBUS A-321-231(LUFTHANSA) CASA C-295M (FAP)

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Lisbon’s riverside through my lens

The Righteous

The righteous

The Road

The Road

Hills

Hills

DSC_0789

Concrete walls

Concrete walls

Fear

Fear

Looking down

Looking down

Compassion

Compassion

Lining up

Lining up

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