Issue #6

that look that I don't yet understand

"this is the east midlands service to" somewhere away from where you are - shake left, right, keep it steady - maybe it'll shake out the memories of that look that I don't yet understand that you gave me this morning: earlier we took a canal ride in the city; earlier this morning cracks of colour shattered the skies and they cut all my senses all at once, forcing my newborn eyes awake, while through a blue screen colour trickled down and I wanted to feel it and in my head it was singing to me and in my mouth I could taste sweet clouds and

I'm there now, but for some reason I can't feel any of it so I run higher up, climbing the spiral staircase up to the balcony and as close as I can possibly ever get to it yet as I run I can't feel anything I'm longing to feel or sense anything I know I should sense - I don't understand

meanwhile I say goodbye to the moon and watch him wave his melancholy way down, down, it’s okay though because the sun hangs up her blue wallpaper just like she always does because you can always count on the sun for tradition, and I still need to grab it in my eager fingers - I’m running - I know if I try then I can swallow it all if I want to

and with a sigh of something I don't yet understand you tell me with a heavy heart the ‘science of the skies’ and why things can’t change and why I can’t reach it but in defiance I run from you, no I can't bear to hear it, no I don't want to hear it

now run away; I sprint like one of those children whose head is too fast for their feet right to the sea and sail into the blue; I tell you I'll sail a thousand miles to prove you wrong but I don't understand when you say you did the same thing too

so I'm in my sailing boat in the middle of the world with no ladder high enough to reach the sky, and the sun, in her wisdom, turns away, vanishing out of sight but making sure to take her curtains with her, down

now I'm on the top of an average sized hill with my arms stretched, feeling earth and grass and air around me and in every squeeze of my vision

and I'm back

I could see the sky but I didn't reach up to touch it, or with juvenile energy try to grab a greedy handful because I knew that if I stayed right there I'd be as close as I ever could be and tomorrow I'll be giving someone else that look that they don't yet understand, watching them knowing that they won't reach the sky either, but I can't tell them that because "this is the east midlands service to" because if I tell them they might never want to "change here for" never want to find out why "this train terminates here" find out why and that's the beauty of discovery

Alex Fleetwood

Alex Fleetwood is an English and Philosophy student who enjoys attempting to make things out of words which other people might find pleasant to read or hear.