Tag: river

At first she doesn’t notice anything amiss.
You’ll keep a secret if I do?
But you must promise not to tell anyone about it, not even your companions.
That old sense that someone, somewhere, needed her help began to nag at her again.
There was probably a word for it in German, something long and obscure and hard to pronounce.
Nobody seemed to be paying it any attention.
It was a strange time; looking back, we were very vulnerable.
She couldn’t see any reason why she should go anywhere else.
Not a word was spoken.
Ces foules sont toujours énormes.
That was all he asked, all he wanted.
Get a drink? Burn in hell?
Last chance to do what?
The Last Chance. The Last Chance.
There was nothing. There was no sound at all.
The river was redgold along the edges.
Because once again he felt as though he could conquer the world.
Her thoughts kept twisting and turning.
Does one simply see what one is fit to see?
Gone Fishin’
The past was always in front of him like a river he couldn’t cross.
Gone Fishin’ Part Two
Gone Fishin’
Unpathed waters. Undreamed shores.
They talked about life as flow. About nothingness. About illusion.
The story has to start somewhere.
Then there’s the river. Wide as the future used to be.
Would they be cursing, pleading, bemoaning their fate?
Is he a bad influence? They infer that he is.
Who had ever been edgier than him?
It was like tagging someone and then running away.
A whole world of foreignness upon the horizon.
So please come out when it’s summer and we will live by the sea.
She believes she may close her eyes and take a deep breath.
Gone Fishin’
Gone Fishin’
Nothing makes any sense. Things just happen, that’s all.
When the light hits it differently, even familiar places turn strange.
Still, the world has always puzzled him.
Sometimes you can reach him and sometimes you can’t.
It feels like we have the whole place to ourselves.
The forest is still and it feels a good place to be.
This time next year we shall be living like kings.
He went where he wanted to go.
There’s always a simple explanation for these things.
And how do you feel about that, then?
I was a nobody, a little ant scraping away at the soil.
Gone Fishin’
If we’re going out, we’re going out in style.
Something is happening. And I believe it has been happening for some time.