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A cobbled path; filled with a certain familiarity that made it comforting, despite the cold, wet stone it was. I remember as a child, memories drift by just briefly, obscure parts of my life with no meaning that just fit together, what little I can remember of being young. My father would walk me up this cobbled path, as tiring as it was for me. On the left an old primary school; nothing more than a shell of the building it used to be. Objects scattered in odd places, people flocking around small tables.
Everything else around that time is lost in the vast sea of emptiness, as much of a mew as it was in the gargantuan of the world, that is my earliest memory. It serves purpose though. I remember that place to this day. I remember the sentiment that I went there; people love to feel as if they are part of something, as insignificant as they may be, as worthless are their lives are, they think they hold some key to some ancient treasure box somewhere in their vacant towns, accompanied by their vacant minds.
I was part of something small, but it stayed with me to this day. Was I even part of anything at all? I can't be sure, my mind sways as it reaches further back and collapses after a short while. There's no way to tell what the past truly felt like. We can only study what we have before ourselves, and use the past as a rough guide. How else could we go wrong so often, again and again?
This has been a long time in the making; the money was starting to spill from my account, and by the end of the week it would be empty. Sharks, they smell blood and focus on it until it's all gone. Red vapour trails rise up from the sea like any pirate as I watch the shaky lines get lower and lower, closer to sinking as every second.
But the school was ready, the very same one I stood in over 20 years old, every single piece of furniture in their place, everything that shouldn't be seen couldn't be seen. My life had seen red, my life had seen green, time to see black.
Now it's just for me to sit back and wait for them to arrive; the itching and sweating increasing, the door slowly turning ajar to my right, and from the window the flash of a siren hits my eyes.
Looks like this is it, no time to change now.
Everything else around that time is lost in the vast sea of emptiness, as much of a mew as it was in the gargantuan of the world, that is my earliest memory. It serves purpose though. I remember that place to this day. I remember the sentiment that I went there; people love to feel as if they are part of something, as insignificant as they may be, as worthless are their lives are, they think they hold some key to some ancient treasure box somewhere in their vacant towns, accompanied by their vacant minds.
I was part of something small, but it stayed with me to this day. Was I even part of anything at all? I can't be sure, my mind sways as it reaches further back and collapses after a short while. There's no way to tell what the past truly felt like. We can only study what we have before ourselves, and use the past as a rough guide. How else could we go wrong so often, again and again?
This has been a long time in the making; the money was starting to spill from my account, and by the end of the week it would be empty. Sharks, they smell blood and focus on it until it's all gone. Red vapour trails rise up from the sea like any pirate as I watch the shaky lines get lower and lower, closer to sinking as every second.
But the school was ready, the very same one I stood in over 20 years old, every single piece of furniture in their place, everything that shouldn't be seen couldn't be seen. My life had seen red, my life had seen green, time to see black.
Now it's just for me to sit back and wait for them to arrive; the itching and sweating increasing, the door slowly turning ajar to my right, and from the window the flash of a siren hits my eyes.
Looks like this is it, no time to change now.
Excellent all in all - but yeah, the middle needed tightening up a bit.
Good, but slightly meandering in places...
Aha, yes, very good.
Liked the start and ending very much, the middle was okay, but, hmmm, I'm just not as sure in it as the other parts.
Still, yuss, (Y) and all that. I like it.
Liked the start and ending very much, the middle was okay, but, hmmm, I'm just not as sure in it as the other parts.
Still, yuss, (Y) and all that. I like it.
A cobbled path; filled with a certain familiarity that made it comforting, despite the cold, wet stone it was. I remember as a child, memories drift by just briefly, obscure parts of my life with no meaning that just fit together, what little I can remember of being young. My father would walk me up this cobbled path, as tiring as it was for me. On the left an old primary school; nothing more than a shell of the building it used to be. Objects scattered in odd places, people flocking around small tables.
Everything else around that time is lost in the vast sea of emptiness, as much of a mew as it was in the gargantuan of the world, that is my earliest memory. It serves purpose though. I remember that place to this day. I remember the sentiment that I went there; people love to feel as if they are part of something, as insignificant as they may be, as worthless are their lives are, they think they hold some key to some ancient treasure box somewhere in their vacant towns, accompanied by their vacant minds.
I was part of something small, but it stayed with me to this day. Was I even part of anything at all? I can't be sure, my mind sways as it reaches further back and collapses after a short while. There's no way to tell what the past truly felt like. We can only study what we have before ourselves, and use the past as a rough guide. How else could we go wrong so often, again and again?
This has been a long time in the making; the money was starting to spill from my account, and by the end of the week it would be empty. Sharks, they smell blood and focus on it until it's all gone. Red vapour trails rise up from the sea like any pirate as I watch the shaky lines get lower and lower, closer to sinking as every second.
But the school was ready, the very same one I stood in over 20 years old, every single piece of furniture in their place, everything that shouldn't be seen couldn't be seen. My life had seen red, my life had seen green, time to see black.
Now it's just for me to sit back and wait for them to arrive; the itching and sweating increasing, the door slowly turning ajar to my right, and from the window the flash of a siren hits my eyes.
Looks like this is it, no time to change now.
Everything else around that time is lost in the vast sea of emptiness, as much of a mew as it was in the gargantuan of the world, that is my earliest memory. It serves purpose though. I remember that place to this day. I remember the sentiment that I went there; people love to feel as if they are part of something, as insignificant as they may be, as worthless are their lives are, they think they hold some key to some ancient treasure box somewhere in their vacant towns, accompanied by their vacant minds.
I was part of something small, but it stayed with me to this day. Was I even part of anything at all? I can't be sure, my mind sways as it reaches further back and collapses after a short while. There's no way to tell what the past truly felt like. We can only study what we have before ourselves, and use the past as a rough guide. How else could we go wrong so often, again and again?
This has been a long time in the making; the money was starting to spill from my account, and by the end of the week it would be empty. Sharks, they smell blood and focus on it until it's all gone. Red vapour trails rise up from the sea like any pirate as I watch the shaky lines get lower and lower, closer to sinking as every second.
But the school was ready, the very same one I stood in over 20 years old, every single piece of furniture in their place, everything that shouldn't be seen couldn't be seen. My life had seen red, my life had seen green, time to see black.
Now it's just for me to sit back and wait for them to arrive; the itching and sweating increasing, the door slowly turning ajar to my right, and from the window the flash of a siren hits my eyes.
Looks like this is it, no time to change now.