In time. 1995. Frankfurt country party.

“The tree was fascinating. It pulsed and furled, slowly exposing one face after another. A tale of ancient Buddhas and dragons, clouds and light.

The new sun too bright and hot, pulsed in time to the music, hot through the window behind.

The bits of dirt, static with life, and everything seemed damper and more alive than normal. Inta (dog) flicked movement, flickering, like a bat, against the sweating windscreen.

Prickling with sensitivity.

Holding myself down.

Frantic for a cigarette. Miraculous action. Springing up and taking greenish fingers to the target. Lighting up and gagging violently.

Lying down, music pumping through the van, my veins, the deep sounds thudding in my marrow. Resisting. The urge to dance.

Dance. Dance. Not here. There.

Check the van.

Check the van again.

Head down, speedy stumbling, in time, in the long , wet, swirling grass….in time…in time…

yeah…I am here…

Joining in the twisting mess again.”

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