‘They’re drunk,’ he says.
I stand on a precipice, shaking. What a journey,
what a long and ridiculous and arduous journey. Cars flicker past in the
distance like smouldering embers which flush and speed away. A redolence of her
fills my nostrils, her sulphur scent. To be out there, in the summer, I would
give anything. Out there, it’s even stronger, I know it. I don’t know how, but
I do.
The big old baby men
come forward. As each piece of flesh draws closer, I feel their full-fatted
forms choking my existence.
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