Old white T and Baby blue jean:

I’m sitting on a beach. It’s more of a fjord, actually. Blue lagoon, sailing breeze, and the swashing sea. My feet are all sand and my head is all shine. And evening quietly falls in as if not to disturb me even a bit. I have lost all my void, my articulation, my well versed lines and my reserve. I am holding my long cast Shakespeare but I’m not there. Not at all.

It’s been a quiet sometime now and I haven’t caught anything. But that doesn’t matter. Not even a bit. My head is stone and my heart is sleeping calmly. Now the moon is out, glimmering beautifully in the still waters afar. And my gaze just shifted after a long long time. It is still now, though. I’m casually losing my alphabet, phonetics, and my grammar is wearing out, as if it were bio degradable.

I stand up slowly and put aside my rods, my plugs and my spinners. Gathering a few bits of twigs I start a fire. And looking at the stars I lie down on the ground.

She turns around and hugs me in her sleep. Sigh~