Day 1

I spent the night drifting in and out of dreamless sleep, reaching out and whispering things in your ear. Weeks later I discovered you had heard them, and I was glad. There are things you must hear, and I desired to leave you with these declarations as I left your side for weeks.

We, I and others but no you, left at four in the morning. The early hour, the being awake before there was even a hint of 'Yes, today will be another day' daylight- it was not new. Insomnia, and unconscious panic rendered this my most regular hour. And as the drunk students stumbled around in a ghost town celebrating something they have long forgotten, we snaked our way onto a long road to be more than that.

Nine others. Erratic sleep. Strangers who were fast becoming the opposite. Too few smoke breaks. A gradual build-up of stagnant body odour that nobody could smell because we all reeked of having sat still for too long, sleeping with our mouths open.

I watch this country of mine go by in an 80m/h landscape. First, endless flatness and galeforce winds. There is nothing, no mountain or ocean or any other landmark towards which the wind may be heading. It just travels, and somewhere over this desert nomansland it will stop suddenly, and drop to the dry earth as silently as it came. It raises no dust, and there are no trees to indicate its direction. It simply is.

Hours later I wake suddenly from a bad dream I hope nobody saw. I recognise this landscape. This is familiar, but I cannot say where I am. There are trees, and later crops. More wind, and dust. It lies above the ground, hovering about to make everything blurry and uncertain. Proportions and horizons can only be guessed, and the colours are not right.

I crawl down into the narrow aisle between the seats. My shoulders just fit, and I lie in the dark dreaming of another destination, forming the one I dream of silently in my thoughts. I am not sure where I am going, but someday you will be there too.

We arrive, and it is winter in November. As I stand outside in the rain, my hands stiffen at the unusual cold. With every breath my cigarette crackles softly and I think of you again. Tomorrow holds the unknown, but for tonight I will occupy myself with thoughts of you.