He had an hour to sleep. Before we woke, he had a dream. A dream that encompassed an entire lifetime. A cabin in the woods. Bountiful foraging in the summer. Long dark days in the winter. He was alone. He forgot the sound of his own voice. He grew old and tired. He sat out on the porch one fine autumnal morning and closed his eyes. Then he was awake again and dragging himself from the bed to the shower. Hot water cascaded across his skin and he felt a profound longing for a world that was not so busy or noisy. A world of simplicity. Of long and lonely days. He looked for a long time in the mirror at the deep set bags around his eyes and the parlour of his skin and wondered; why?
Paddy Dobson
27th August 2021