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Mid-morning ice cream and boisterous barbecue and beer after. The boys in the open garden, chain-smoking after full. Smoke still wafting from the grill as aqueous shafts of the sun reveal the speckled dust of the day. Their feet soak in the still moist grass of yesterday’s grief stricken sky. Liquefied puddles of rainbow settle on earthly dents. Laughter ricochets, whispers undress. Garments hanging across a clothesline at the other corner. Undergarments, shirts, sheets, and pillowcases: flipping and flapping, undulating from the Sunday breeze. From the winds, eyes. There was she, a face ravaged by the beauty of experience, freckled by summer, and coloured by the genuine warmth of simplicity. There was he: adorned by a three-day old stubble, a mole on his clavicle, while carrying lips red from the cider. A mutual gaze that could tear the sea. A language that could stop the time, and make the two, we.


Have you ever lived for a moment? For seconds contained within the awareness you are alive? Maybe a cup of coffee, snuggled with a lover, a family, a friend. The rain outside. Windows frosted. Cool in between the sheets. Warm breaths. Eyes fixed on the raindrops. Ears attuned to the company of conversation. Seconds where nothing else seems to matter; or when no sort of matter seems to Be except the exact moment, even the exact moment passing into another; passages of time filtered, magnified, savoured to the very morsel by your consciousness. When you feel light, and your insides seem to be floating around your hollow lungs; and your heart is equally detached from the fiber of your body. Happiness from loneliness; presence! Singular and all encompassing, the exquisite dilemmas dissipate with a sip, a dip, a tap, noise, sound, and voice. Even more coffee? Even more rain. In the moment, soaked. Soaked in the moment.