Journeying

[creative writing]

The capiccino smelt good but he made himself not drink it until the train left the station. Likewise his I-Pod was untouched, just in case. Just in case there was some strange annoucement.

The train moved off with a jolt. He relaxed and fitted in the ear pieces of his I-Pod. He was imemdiately flooded with sounds and then memories. All his favourite music carried rich memories even the very latest stuff quickly gathered their fair share. To listen to music was to dive deep into an ocean of memories, strange creatures came in view and even though the music could move him to tears he felt safe. He knew where he was going.

He unwrapped the sandwich she had made for him. Crisp fresh bread, Italian ham, organic mayo, lecttuce. Just right, just like her or rather just like her on the surface. Underneath, well was underneath.

Sometimes he just liked to look at her over a meal. It was best when she was in a reverie and he could watch her without her changing or shaping.


Soemtimes we forget how separate we are. Sometimes you are not just part of my inner landscape.