Trial separation. That’s what she said. Keeps saying, keeps telling all her friends and everyone willing to listen. Or so I’ve heard. I can see them thinking, every single one of them:
I wonder who’ll get the kids.
They say I’m not of sound mind. I say I have songs running through my head all day long. I live in melody and lyrics. They say my brain is fried, but I know they’re wrong: my brain is music, is rhythm, is dance.
I woke up with a slight disturbance lying next to me in bed this morning. I made it coffee but not breakfast, and then I asked it to leave. It would not. It is now sitting opposite me at my kitchen table, smiling […]
You’re driftwood, just driftwood, floating in the sea – or something like that. It was S.’s song for G., but it became his song for me – with time, as he kept singing it and singing it, I realised that it was […]