Well we’re always prepared to try out new things aren’t we? This morning, in the cool of a white room that was little more than a cupboard, I ran my finger through France.
What was that place called? There was white sand and these electric globes that reminded me of home.
Low slung buildings, little more than concrete cells. There was this one evening when I drank from a bottle and the person in front stepped back, head connecting with glass to connect with my teeth. A permanent reminder. This little piece missing as is many another.
From where I’m standing England doesn’t look much smaller than France.
My son comes into the kitchen with his friend who’s stayed the night and all further meditations on geography end in an instant. Navigational skills required elsewhere. Closer to hand where perception plays tricks of an equal distortion.