© 2012 Lynsey

The earth


We sit on the paved courtyard outside Te Papa. The night air is chilled, the tiles still warm from the day’s sun. It’s like school days. Sitting, waiting for some action, some entertainment. Finally, some lights, and we try to engage.

I can’t tell whether it is because I’m getting older, and therefore my bones are nearer the surface, but I’m pretending I’m not bored. Or at least not wishing I was somewhere else. The boredom raises in me and presses my flesh into the unyielding concrete tiles. I try to ignore the relentless yammering of some woman off to my side. The noise presses into my ears, my bones crush into the tiles, and boredom wells up like a belch you cannot stifle.

This is the time of school classrooms. My mind eases off in its easy lope, down well trodden paths. I’m not away soaring. I’m not Tom Sawyer on the raft. I’m not building castles in my mind. I’m in the gold – a seamless, edgeless, featureless, glowing-gold sphere. Sound turns down to a buzz.

I breathe in.

I breathe out.

I’m not being polite, I’m simply not there.

The kids know better. They get up. They walk away.

Manifesto
39. Every day trust that there is a bigger picture. You are a part of it even if you may not know what it is.
48. Every day there are things you can’t change. You can change the way you think about them and deal with them.
50. Every day has an ending.

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