Disconnected...

Due to a "pathetic" internet provider, blog posts may be infrequent for probably another two weeks.

2 weeks and 7 customer service calls later... still no closer. Sigh-iNet

Sibling rivalry...

Sapped of strength I turn to brace against the wind. With the warmth of my heart leaking from every pore open to the elements, I will not give in. Winter has his icy grip around my neck, and is gently squeezing... for now... Once his hand longed to caress me and coolly evoke my passion, but jealousy has now raised his hand against me - this I know with certainty.

A deep jealousy, stemming from the love that I share with his brother, and the way only his sibling can make me feel. Only his warm embrace is enough to melt away this repressive feeling that Winter has wrought.

And Winter hates him for it. 

Every time he sees the splash of joy across my face when his brother's warmth streaks across the land to wrap me in his arms, his rage goes deep to his cold heart. Every time he sees my elation, as I watch the very elements about me radiate with Summer's touch, it sickens him to the core.

It's a deep jealousy, a sibling rivalry, because he knows that only his brother's love can make me feel this way. He knows that I even prefer the presence of his two sisters to him. Year after year, they strive to keep their brothers apart, and this cuts him deep. This rivalry, in a family poles apart from each other, must tear apart their Mother. Silently she must wait and watch, hoping that experience will season them all with its hard lessons.

Winter's cold embrace tightens further, and I wrap my scarf closer to my neck, sealing in the warmth of my one true love. Even now, I smell him in the air. How I've missed him. He's coming back for me... soon... all I need do is wait - it's just a matter of time. 

Drifting

A hundred sails, nevermore to unfurl at sea, are rippling overhead in the afternoon breeze.

A lazy hush fills the area as the sweeping wind brushes past my cheek. 

There is serenity here, and beauty - but also regret.

A hundred sails, designed with direction in mind, now forbidden to take their destined journeys. Rather, the lofty heights of an unseen purpose has been thrust upon them.

Their makers, unsure of their final destination, probably saw just another piece of material. The artist- a unique canvass...

I stare upward at their graceful forms overhead, with the sound of seagulls, lapping water and lullabies. A billowing gust rips through the warehouse and all at once I am five again, with a fresh load of bed linen, a worthy imagination and a secret place to create and play in.

Memories, thoughts and beauty, I humbly leave you now for others to experience and enjoy.

*for anyone who also appreciated the simple beauty in this installation at the Biennale

A thought for those colder mornings...

I wake to find the glass is frosty. Shaped by the shadows and former glory of my breath, belched out into the frigid air and pressed against the glass. What words spoken must lie there captured, plainly visible to all, but for none to understand.

I think back over the last few conversations, phone calls and self-musings voiced for no one to hear. The brisk morning has bundled them up and captured them, cooly displaying them like trophies - mocking my insecurities and haunting my mind.

Staring closely, I see letters, words and thoughts begin to take shape- fragments of conversations emerging as if crafted by the breath and finger of one who watches me constantly. One who observes my every move, hears my every thought and then lauds it over me, tauntingly. Yet I am here, alone with my thoughts.

I feel myself steeling my nerve against the morning and this betrayal of my inner self. 

I open the door.

The sharp, cool air enters.

It snaps me awake.

And my thoughts slowly dissipate before my eyes.

Baggage Claim...

The tension builds... Jetsetting business men and women are out of their seats and ready to pick up their carry on luggage. An  announcement tells them to sit back down and wait until the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign... but they don't listen. 

All throughout the plane, people are reaching for their mobiles and switching them on, desperate to find out if their absence from connectivity for the last five hours has dealt them, their loved ones or their business a harsh blow.

Around me, the cacophony begins, as messages of love, hope and missed voicemail start disseminating through the captive audience.

Captive for only a moment longer...

I switch my phone on. 

Nothing.

No message to set off my ill-chosen message ringtone.

I wait patiently, as if reflecting my life methodology, but nothing happens.

One day, in the distant and slightly believable future, I will emerge from the flying tin can to find that my loving partner has sent me a message a few hours earlier while i was in transit, just to let me know at this very moment, once I arrive at my destination, that I am loved, missed and cared for. 

One day... soon I hope.

For now, I turn to the right and head downstairs to claim my baggage, an arduous task for any traveller, and yet one we must follow through with. 

We all have baggage to claim. Some damaged, some painfully black with accentuated ribbon-work to attract attention, or some uniquely individual. I think I travel fairly light...