anonymous
as gingerbeard and i were approaching dawn in our heavy little slumbers this morning, i woke suddenly. you know, the wake you see in the cinema, the instant wake; no weak and weary eyes, no grace period for focussing. your eyes just snap open, with all the instantaneousness of a clap. i saw him.
and we had slept, unbeknown, not two inches away from each other’s face, for some far-off, distant space of time. really, a blatant disregard for personal space, a total unawareness of potential discomfort if one was to twirl in a sleepy state and end up compressing the other’s face. but my body felt he was there, my auto-pilot let me lay in that way. a sort of innate comfort must seep from our equally straggy, dirty hair and our equally creamy skin.
and there was no moment of drinking in rationale, see, no moment to let the information pour into my ears, nostrils, the blacks of my eyes. oh, just of who i was, where i was, why i was there… there was just gingerbeard, like a photograph held up to my eyes. a perfect portrait shot. i promptly lowered my eyes, and dreamt.
