Doing time...

Contrary to what your may believe... doing time does not have to be in a prison - it can be in a place, in any place where you feel as if you are in exile... it can be when you are missing someone or something very special.

I woke up today miserable - clutched in the hands of desperation. I live in a world of the constant buzz of work, of cars lined up behind one another - of people rushing into buildings, in the temporal space between meetings...

I live in a world where everyone wants to have results at the push of a button, a world of raised hands frantically gesturing at the waiter - in a world of information crossing continents in a blink of an eye... a world where clear liquids can be explosives, where man is the hunter and the hunted...

All these fade into the background as I sat down staring at empty tables in a nearly empty restaurant - with waiters shuffling about in a almost hushed silence and a boy walked over to a girl with a soft blond hair and rosy cheeks, asking for her number and glad to have bumped into her again after all these years.

An almost surreal reality settled into place as the same boy nervously hold a bunch of flowers in a crowded airport, looking for the same blond hair and rosy cheeks - settling down for a cup of coffee amidst an oppresive silence.

Images blurred as rivers flow by, waiters ran between tables, different tables flashed in and out - flitting from restaurant to restaurant. Lights change - yellow, orange, green and yellow. Backdrops change - blurring faster than the blink of an eye - Sydney, London, Madrid, Dublin - opera house, cliff top, river bank.

Everything fades to black but one pair of rosy cheeks, one pair of brown eyes, one small tiny mouth, two tiny hands... petite yet towering amidst shrinking buildings, pale yet colourful in the fading lights...

I guess that I am home in the presence of my beloved... all is still and all shall remain still...

until the end of days...