10 February 2013

broken crocuses

i went to deliver a letter but i ended up rescuing crocuses. they were scattered amongst the living ones, broken and lying in the mud. i wondered how this might have happened. they'd been trampled on and i thought maybe it was dogs.

i sat on a wall and arranged the purple buds in patterns on a stone covered in a mustard yellow lichen. i heard a 'miaow' and a tabby and white cat came padding up to me. it climbed onto my knee and rubbed against my face and shoulders. distant voices carried by the wind blew through the trees, the cat pricked up its ears, grew wide-eyed and bounded away. and i was sad for i'd wanted it to stay longer.

beyond sweeping curves of bamboo i spotted a girl balancing on a line tied between palm trees. every now and again she would jump high and land back on the rope as if attached by an invisible web. it was impressive. she was agile and moved like a dancer through the air. sometimes she seemed suspended in space. it was as if the moment she left the rope, time stood still and she hovered in the sky in a place between walking and flying, laughing and crying, remembering and forgetting. 

i gathered up my crocuses and wrapped them in a waxy red leaf that was lying on the ground. i tied them with some twisted grass to make sure they were secure. i thought i would take them to the sea so i could watch them float away. it was difficult to know whether to let them go. in the end i fished them out and left them on a window sill as a surprise for a friend. later i sent instructions: "please look after them, they will need a wash in cold water as they've been in the sea."

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