Expressive Explorations

"That's not what really happened. Everyone says it was going well until he went too high. But I was there, ploughing by the wet pebbles.  "I'd looked up from my work tempting the wrath of the boss, and I saw someone on the pier being forced into shoddy wings. "They never got above the water. Their feet skimmed it briefly, but there was never time to soar and the weight of those wings in the water, dragged them down. "The spin machine started quickly and the story couldn't be Icarus had no choice and no chance . That doesn't work like Don't be as greedy as Icarus ."

My brilliant, ingenious sister had the idea to make paper aeroplanes to throw at you, when you argued, and to write "DON'T FIGHT" along the wings. As if an attack across the streams between you would confuse and dissipate whatever had come between. Don't fight. It makes love look so fragile. Like every failure will send love flying, spreading shrapnel. Like anger will always descend and steal affection away, whenever a mistake is made. Maybe the next time, when the shouting was about to start, and the air became thin and taught, the aeroplanes flew un-thrown and circled round and round you, stopping you splitting apart, until time blew through.

I am a chameleon. I contain multitudes and wear my skins, not when I choose, but when the background demands. Can a slippery lack of fixed, known identity be an identity in itself? I am one who moulds around the strong. As ugly as what is behind, as beautiful as what imprints, I search for where I can eat my fruit flies and flicker nature. 

  While together, connected and strong,      fibres interlinked, hold us together. But then the construction becomes clear. While                                              miles apart                                              ever- ything                                          passes bet-                                            ween us and                                              expires. The  ...