Wide horizons.
Long cool marble floors, flat and smooth. Half covered in drifts
of fine white sand. The projecting remains of rows of marble
pillars pink in a desert twilight.
The edge of a red sun going down behind distant hills. Warm breeze
from the sea behind me.
One star glimmering in the sky. A message coming in faintly as
I stand watching... Some other memory perhaps.
The light takes many thousands of years to arrive. The star is
no longer there. A few thousand years from now someone will stand
here and see it quietly wink out in the twilight.
In the rosy light I return to a secret doorway hidden by a wall
of leaves. This leads down a long rusty iron corridor through
other times into my room.
Long white voile curtains blowing in a dazzle of early morning
sunlight. Rooks caw in the trees outside. Banks of white flowers
against big gilded mirrors.
My co-ordination is not good. Movements clumsy.
I realise that I am exhausted. My mind is blurred with many impressions
of foreign cities and landscapes. I see in the mirror that I
am very thin now, and haggard. My eyes are clear grey and they
seem unnaturally bright in the taut face. The skin is weathered,
the hair bleached as if by long exposure to the sun.
Reflection of my strange figure surrounded by white flowers.
Old, so old now... an old man.
I lean forward to examine some small scars that I don't remember.
One small wound above my eyebrow has a softly flowing iridescent
edge. It gives me no pain though, and as I gingerly touch it,
I see that my fingernails are long and have dirt underneath them.
My clothes are very worn and faded as if from years of travelling
in all weathers. I catch my own smell compounded of musky sweat,
dried sea water, wood smoke, pine needles and bracken.
As I begin to strip off the ragged clothes, I find that some
of the layers next to my skin are so decayed that they shred
and stick to my body. An ammoniac smell of old confined sweat
rises from the ruins of fabric, and I notice many leaves and
bits of dried grass caught between the folds.
The skin beneath is white and flaky and has the odour of healing
flesh exposed after a long time under bandages. I see that there
are heavy dust marks around my ankles and my wrists.
It is a great relief to get out of those clothes. I feel lighter
and cleaner. The air is cool and fresh on my skin. I pick off
some remaining shreds of fabric and leaves then I step into the
beautiful marble pool that comes in through one open wall of
the room. Water lilies float on the surface in golden sunlight.
Smell of lost flowers and waterways.
The water is a perfect temperature, and as I push the floating
leaves away I can feel the fish flicking by my body. My every
movement reveals aching muscles. I go under the surface. Sighing
as the weariness drops away. Of course I can breathe the water.
I feel a great lightness and joy as I strike out into a slying
position, swimming away as hard as I can, circling, diving, whirling
in pure delight.
After a time I begin to itch all over. Gradually the itching
becomes more intense. Then as I scratch I see, frighteningly,
that my skin at first loosens then comes floating away, unfurling
in ragged translucent streamers. Even my hair begins to come
off in thick pieces. I can not stop though because the itching
has become so intense and the scratching is so exquisitely gratifying.
So I continue with rising excitement and pleasure to loosen my
entire skin until I can kick free of its irritating surface,
leaving the discarded sheath to fall away through the blue depths
behind me.
As I swim away a delicious languor spreads through my body. I
allow myself to drift, to rise towards the sunlit surface. I
feel as if I am dissolving, diffusing into the gold blue of the
water, the flowers, the sunlight, the movements of the air.
There are many voices in the water. Many sounds and long rhythms
that are all a part of its colour and substance and mass. The
light refracted inside it glows and flickers softly with every
movement. It is a sensitive, responsive medium. Divisions dissolve.
My body fragments into voices, water, lilies, sunlight, scent,
mirrors, singing waterways. Endless reflections, music, floating
layers of impressions of cities, rooms, golden fragments of voices,
faces, conversations, gestures. Buildings, pathways, streets,
fallen blossom blowing, voices speaking, squalling caged birds
with bright feathers, animals, children, sharp stink of urine
in stone courtyards under fig trees, vines, flowers on balconies,
warm moist air by the waterways. Sweat and booze and bodies crowded
into noisy bars. Above on the balcony her beautiful body spread
on the great bed. Hair streaming on the shores of that sea "This
is the last chance... you will remember me as a voice, all this
will take many years..."
Golden fragments - out of focus. Spread on the great bed beautiful
hair streaming voice in my heart secret vagina soft golden back.
Drowning in her light. The red laugh. That simple gesture. Not
quite erased.
Slightly drunk now, ranging over past lives. Cooler after the
rain. Tropical dusk. Going out into the fine marble piazza. Dinner
in the square. White tablecloths.
Strawberries. Dry cold wine in tall glasses. White fish. Salad,
bread, watermelon, streams of people passing. Her floating dress.
Wind from the sea. Strings of lights. My voice coming back through
decaying alleyways... "This is a long way to go"...
Luminous sea. Strolling just strolling. Through someone else's
memories.
Walking in the dust of many roads, many cities... some way to
feed from others. An Englishman of course. The aristocratic accent
and bearing faintly ridiculous considering the circumstances.
Ragged suit. He has come a long way. Carefully designing his
sentences, his manner.
"Some day I will be here". Her face caught in that
moment. Stay with me forever.
Up to the surface... The discarded skin falling away in the pale
distance... Spinning slowly... Voices of light... A faint message...
Falling star... Up to the surface... Voices on a golden wind.
It is dark when I finally climb out of the pool. A warm evening.
People strolling in the town square below. Faint smell of cooking
on the air. Later I will go out to eat and find some new friends.
A red sun is going down behind blue distant hills. One star in
the evening sky... Remember?
I stand out on the balcony dripping and naked. Young again, nineteen
again. Tears fill my eyes. A great heavy sob tears my throat.
One star is missing from the deepening blue sky. I remember...
I remember... the last light.
Already gone. |
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