In The Night Factory

(I fetch my bucket of water from the well and duck my head inside it. While doing this I attempt a handstand, my feet waving about in the air. I survive by drinking all of the water so that I can then breathe. The bucket is cold inside and rattles against the rocks when my head moves. I loose balance and fall with the full length of my body falling flat, my boots clubbing the rough ground. The bucket roles away, drawing an arch across the sand, stopping against the side of the well. Refreshed, I get to my feet, brushing myself down. I tell myself to remember this well for the way back, lucky I came upon it, what a find, just when I was feeling thirsty. The flies re-emerge and continue pestering my salty skin.) I think that I am tired and need to go to bed. I will have a drink before I go. Why so thirsty? I don't know. (The morning beckons with a brand new landscape with green seaweed and war ships armed to the teeth waving about on a choppy sea, sailed by postmen with nosey next door neighbours. A fish is caught and is passed straight from the lagoon onto the fisherman’s plate. Whitewashed buildings cram for space inside the castle walls towering above the cliff edge and threaten to topple over onto the sands below. Nesting albatrosses glide down from the walls to hover above a surfacing shoal of glittering sardines.)

# posted by Neil @ 8:14 pm