Levitating

Bees swarm out of the night-sick mind and into the day, where they return to being harmless eccentric flying machines. One by one I tie strings to each bee and tie the other ends to strands of my hair. By the end of the day I am levitating. Old people point and laugh. I don’t care.

Singing in the woods, bleeping in the kitchen...

Everywhere I turn from Paul Higginson on Vimeo.

John Lawrence being all lovely in the woods. While his old bandmate Euros is having fun in the kitchen...

Gravity Gives Up

Finally, after so many occasional daydreams of gravity giving up and everything floating away, it actually did. He was out walking when everything not attached to the ground drifted off in different directions. Cars lifted up, bobbing like boats left to their own devices. A confused cat passed him a chest level. His legs lifted behind him until he was horizontal. As his body ascended towards the sky, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He just took everything in; the scenery, the streets he’d never contemplated from this angle, the bodies of others gently rising amongst all the other bits and pieces and animals saying goodbye to the Earth. It was beautiful. Nothing had ever absorbed him so much. He didn’t mind what happened next.

onetwoonewo

Turn key in lock. He enters house. Post underfoot. Bills. Sighs. Remaining sunlight half lights room. Decides not to turn lights on. Beer from fridge. Sit on sofa. Cold on throat. Close eyes. Chilled brain. Work has softened spirit. Cannot get energy. Finishes beer. Thinks. Eyes still closed. Time passes. Gets up. Makes small supper. Eats. Chews well. Washes up with care. Drying last dish decides on walk. Get out of house. Unfinished thoughts. Cannot be brought into house. Puts on coat. Keys in pocket. Leaves.

Sun near horizon. Breeze small. Foot here. There. One Two. One. Two. He takes pleasure in his body’s propulsion. The air is mild. For the first time that day he remembers to give thanks. Stops on street corner. Stares at sky. Lifts arms. Wonders.