Hermoine & Trough

'i'm going away for a week' she says

'away?' he says

'a week or 2' she says

'where' he says 

'i need to be alone, i'm going to create something' she says

'what are you going to create' he says

'i'm not sure, something brilliant, perhaps a book, filled with... everything, you know these people will only read one book' she says

'everything?' he says

'yes. i'm not quite sure what that is yet.' she says

'where are you going' he says

'55 acres street, belgium' she says. she looks up from putting her braids into a high ponytail and looks him in the eye 'please don't visit', not one of those intense eye contacts, they come rarer with the years.

'why' he says

'because im naturally slim i've just let myself go' she says

'because i'm a genius not crazy i've just let myself go' she says

'because i believe in my dreams, i've just let myself go' she says

he's offended. 'you know i never stopped believing in you' he says

YOU MAY SAY I'M A DREAMER BUT I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE - JOHN LENNON

'That's not what I said' she says. she takes her hair down and slouches to her knees as though begging for mercy 'i just wanna be something'

He gets down on the floor and holds her face with two hands. 'Your amazing' he says. she motions her head down to the side as though to hide her open tears. a few seconds later she looks him in the eye 'your exceptional' he whispers. 

she smiles softly 'life makes no exceptions so long as spring blossoms' she says. 

She rests her head on his shoulder. his chin is in her hair. they rock side to side for a while. 

LA MER - CHARLES TRENET, PLAYS

They dance better than that for a while. she can hear the small mouthing movements coming from his lips. He speaks french. 

Her father speaks french.

She doesn't speak french.

‘though the stars are in the sky, can i not admire their sparkle?, for even distances apart, we're not alone' he says

'yes we are' she says internally

they sigh and remain still during the long silent relief, waiting to inhale.

he stands back and holds her arms. 'are you okay?' he says

'im too tired to speak' she says

they are familiar with silence.

'is it all just hopeless, is life all just fucking hopeless, is it!?' she says

'perhaps' he says

'no that's not what your supposed to say, your supposed to tell me that hope is magical and pure and necessary' she says

IM NOT QUITE SURE WHAT WERE SUPPOSED TO DO - DAVID BOWIE

the silence returns. they hug. she sighs. she tries to keep her eyes open but the heaviness is creeping up on her. out of nowhere, the heaviness creeps up on her.

she hugs him tighter, feeling lighter - she sighs. 

'im so grateful for you' she says internally

'im so grateful for you' she says.

'its back' she says 'the heaviness is back, the feeling that it all means nothing. that all this pain and suffering, what is it for? i care not to 'build character' i want to smile when the sun shines and love others and love herself but my soul is bleeding and the tears in my eyes keep me blind, i cannot see i cannot see the way out i cannot see'

'love, herself?' he says

'does it not make sense to place myself in a reality where i am not myself?' she says

'you can't run from yourself' he says

'yes i can.' she says

'i need to leave now.' she says

'where are you going' he says

'belgium, i'll be back in a week' she says

'is that the truth?' he says

'i will always return to you my love' she says internally

'i will always return to you my love' she says

'were not alone' she says internally

she lays in bed and covers her body with a small blanket. 'i dont know if it's me' she says. she holds her head in her hand, eyebrows furrowed. 'what is normal' she says internally. 

he gets in bed, back sat up against the board while she shlouches to his left. 'the curse of madness' he says

trough once told hermoine he was crazy. hermoine replied 'crazy or alive?' trough responded 'crazy'

they were alot of things, they were alot of things.

'i am leaving at sunrise, don't try and stop me love' she says

'i could never stop you' he says

he definitely could.

nearly every part of her wanted to leave packing till the last minute. the remaining parts didn't want to pack at all. hermoine hated packing, as though showing the world she were organised were a diabolical false narritive.

she stared at him. 'why are you staring at me' he says

'im trying to find the words' she says, 'you deserve poetry and flowers and all i have for you are flowers that will soon wilt'

'you are very good and your heart is like no other' he says

'oh please im not a dog' she says internally

'oh please im not a cat' she says

'thank you' she says

'ur welcome my love' he says

'thank you, for making it not look easy, because it's not, it's not easy, but there is still hope. the magical thing' she says

'ur welcome my love' he says, 'to leave for worship and return to understanding is not the worst life. remember the little things, recognise the sky at sunset. don't get caught up in the thinking of it all. many times, to think is a curse and oh dear hath somebody cast a spell on you. relax and let life pass you by as a spontaneous 

adventure. give in to the chaos'

she smiled.

'just let the chaos, be chaos. let the sun be the sun and grant the moon every right to be the moon. let the chaos be unpredictable and selfish and ugly and kind and confusing. let it be both innocent and guilty. let it be the parts of us we don't understand. feed the monster and don't look to reason' he says

FEED THE MONSTER