And in the end, all that lingers in your mind is the image of a field out in the country on a sunny afternoon, with a chilly breeze blowing while racing clouds paint the grass with more shades of green than you can remember.

And in that field is you, lying on your back with your arms spread out desiring nothing more than for this moment to last as long as your draw breath.


Sitting alone on the bar, I let myself float on the thick noise flowing from the incessant operation of a hundred mouths and gaze at exposed tatoos that my eyes happen to fall upon

Remember, remember

If the Blues is good

You don’t care sitting in a bar empty save for you and two other people

Even if they are snogging all the time

Seperating us is a bowl of corn chips

I am wondering whether I will find myself eating one even if I really don’t like them

Opposite me are rows of liquor bottles which I really want to see shot to pieces

Such are the times of the Passenger