Some Time Later.

This place is special.

A wooden deck, a table, a chair.

In one corner a set of chess pieces – roughly hewn from a damaged tree.

On the floor, a blanket.

Dried leaves from the autumn surround the deck, bluebells push upwards under a yellow bush.

Dandelions surround a rusty iron bed frame - where Irises grow from a stone wall.

A bunch of twigs - gathered during the winter - lie where a pillow could. 

And all around, the birds sing.

A woman sits at the desk, she has finished the coffee from the pot on her left.

An empty cup is by her hand - that cup is orange. Her favourite colour.

She can still taste the coffee on her lips, her tongue, and when she swallows her throat remembers.

She is writing.

She planted the bluebells, she made the chess pieces, and in the summer she sleeps on the iron bed.

The rust doesn’t trouble her.

She loves the dandelions.

When they transform she will use them to check the time.

One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock, now.

The time is always now.

But she is writing about the past as she is unable to do anything else.

It is the only thing she knows for certain.

The future will be some time later.

 

 

Aftermathing.

What the this?

A list? 

 

1      the tree roots run deep into the earth

2      the road draws the man

3      the trees raced to meet the spring

4      the woman’s wish held fast in her old age

5      the juice of two oranges spun in her mouth

6      her desire pulls everything around her

 

Yes.

 

Handwritten – not a single full stop in sight.  

Pinned to a cork-board above a desk – next to a black and white photograph - fading. 

The photograph shows an old framed tapestry sampler - the words Love Trust Dare and keep on doing it embroidered in what appear to be different colours. Though the black and white make this unclear. There are no commas and no full stops.

 

But there is a single piece from a jigsaw also pinned to the board. A part of cloud - a part of sky. Not monochrome this time - blue and white. Initials on the back. A Y. An O.

And another photograph. 

Eight children standing in a row. Posing for the camera.  Full colour. All are wearing white caps. They appear to be in a station concourse. It’s possible that a journey is about to begin. Or is one concluding? Travel certainly.

 

A ticket for the cinema, unused.

A headline – a cheese from 2005? Do tread Caerphilly! Advanced punctuation.

 

And five anagrams. Capital letters, no full stops.

 

1)  LENIENT ETHICS

2)  LIZARD NEWTS

3)  MEG RYAN

4)  REGENT MOON

5)  VINO SALE

 

 

Why are these things here?

Are they significant? Of use?

 

A bear-mat with numbers inscribed in once-empty circular spaces.

Two 40’s - two 27’s. 

Why not 80 and 54? 

A 17 - a 22 - a 5.

 

And a target from a fair-ground shooting stand. Dusty.

Very.

Hearts, clubs, diamonds.

Spades are the bull’s eye.

Six shots on the bull’s eye – five elsewhere.

 

 

 

Memory is surrounded by things of which he has no recollection. He is wondering if they belong to him or someone else. He sighs and stares at the anagrams.

“What’s the point?” He says this out loud, listening to his voice. At least, he thinks it’s his voice. It could be his voice. He looks at it.

“Blueish-grey. A mixture of Californian Whale and…….”

“Meg Ryan? Isn’t she a screen actor or something? Or is it actress?”

“…..chalk. School chalk. That sort of blue.” 

 

Memory’s mind is wandering – it often does. It follows paths only he can see. This one is in a wood - somewhere in Kent. There are cowsliops growing at the side of the path - the trees are silver birch. Their roots run deep into the …

 

“Germany!!”

 

He feels better. 

“Finally!” 

Something – one small detail- makes sense.

His mind is no longer playing tricks. Questions and answers come into focus - the way waves do on a Mediterranean shore. When there are no storms brewing or…..

 

“What is the opposite of brewing?”