Leaving the restaurant near-drunk (or drunk, the limits on this kind of thing are kinda subjective) I fall behind a young couple heading for the exit. The man is blond and bulky but in a muscular kind of way. From the pastel colours of his t shirt and shorts I place him firmly in Northern Europe – they seem to love that shit up there. His girlfriend – too young to be married in my view – is in black dress ending somewhere above her knees, wearing matching high heels. There’s a moment when she stops and lifts her left foot up, probably some kind of problem with the heels – bound to be when they are that high. For a moment I think i see a tattoo on her foot which draws my eyes down there and I’m in no hurry to lift them up again. Fortunately her boyfriend doesn’t notice. I used the word “think” because moments later I can’t seem to find it; maybe I’ve imagined it in my half-drunken-to-drunken haze, an artifact of seeing tattoos in just about every woman out there. Maybe it was in a spot which was not visible from behind. In any case, my attention quickly fell on her face which was beautiful and somewhat spanish-looking, like a more beautiful version of Penelope Cruz. The two exchanged some sentences – probably related to the heel problem – yet I couldn’t make out what they were saying; hell, I couldn’t even make out what language they were using which I found particularly upsetting as I’m usually quite good at that kind of thing. They could be talking Valerian for all I knew.

In the car park our paths parted, theirs definitely going to a much better place than mine.

Just before getting into the car I imagined myself surrounded by countless towers reaching up to space, as if I wanted Gods to witness the moment.

I seem to be able to perceive Hubble’s Law without the need of telescopes

With every passing night I feel the distance between me and and everything else getting wider

What if the bar was a dimension ship travelling through an ocean of probability?

I’m trying to decide what part of the crew I would be. 

Not the captain, I’m pretty sure about that.

The more time I spend alone the more seductive these fantasies become.

The night need not be full of terrors.

When I’m in a room I can hear them in the creaking aluminium and between my heartbeats

It is then that I open my window and stare into the darkness, its vastness and serenity everything as if injected into my veins.

In darkness there is no boundary and no reference points, no reminders of past or future; dripping from rooftops or pooling around streetlamps it negates everything, the blank spaces waiting to be written with whatever reality you desire.

Before closing the window I make the sounds of distant traffic to be the waves of a different ocean crashing to land.

Perhaps sleep will be easier, now.

“You missed a great party last night”

“You don’t say”

(“For everybody else” I wanted to say. But didn’t. Why spoil the happiness of others? I am not yet inhumane)