It is a sullen wind that blows through the empty rafters of my mind and disturbs the cobwebs inside. On the first hallway I found three doors guarded by shop dummies. upon the first door was written the word 'guilt' on the second the word 'sorrow' and on the third 'teaset' I thought briefly of Holland and decided to pass on by
I hide in nooks and crannys and random shadows while far away the moon holds a telescope to spy me through missing rooftiles and shingles. Upon a stairwell lit by coloured glass I find a small boy made from twigs holding a broken rabbit.
I sat for a while on lost threadbare carpets waiting for my next move to become apparent, In the next room an elegant man and woman danced without sound, beside them two old men (clearly asleep) clutched Violins covered in dust, after a while the woman curtsied, the man bowed and they started again. I gazed out the window in time to catch sight of a gentleman in striped pajamas leap of across the rooftops holding a ginger cat.
Feeling hollow and uncertain I entered into the house and felt the hands of destiny at my back, forever pushing forward without time or pause for thought, something lies within which may not let me leave, to continue on my path is all I want and all I cannot have. Inside I found a large room filled with paintings of a man at different stages of his life, as the paintings progressed so to did the sense of loss in his face, In the final painting he held a rose. I sat be the fire and poured myself wine from a blue glass bottle.
Portents of doom surround me like early morning fire, 'I have my life in hand ' I say ' I shall not waver from the path' but the path I no longer know, everything is flux and madness and instructions read by lamplight. Secretly I know nothing and belief in nothing will hold me through storms and laughter from birds and small men with axes. I found a cobwebbed mansion upon the edge of the forest, a rusted sign read 'Seek shelter here for secrets lie within' I walk without choice or reason.
At a latern lit crossroads I met an impossibly old man holding a clock and smoking a pipe, weeds grew from the cracks in his velvet top hat and his old great coat. He talked for a while about shrubs and foliage and the shadows behind him which could never quite be seen, We drank from a bucket of wine and I fell asleep upon his lap dreaming of cloistered halls and flickering sunlight, by morning the spring air was already drifting insects from his beard onto my face so I made my leave, pausing only to steal his shoes.
I forget more than I remember and remember everything that I forget, except on wednesdays when I forget to remember the things I had forgotten but I put that down to the drink, I passed by ancient fireplaces at a watering hole, troubled by wasps and bad karma and the knowledge that all will end in time. In the evening I fashioned a coat of leaves and chatted with swans as the moon drifted like a strange balloon above our heads.