[ The woman who wanders up the beach in a belted grey smock with seashells and ribbons woven into her hair could be an Innocent of the foam, so pearl-shining and serene is she. Even the cigarette in between her fingers seems sanctified by her holding it, a torch of sacred fire to fill holy lungs with intoxicating smoke. To say she's beautiful is almost beside the point, but of course, she is.
Just one of life's little unfairnesses.
The air has the electric scour of a passed storm. She may not know how she got here (but what's new about that?) but she may as well take a page out of the detective's book. Keep an open mind. See what falls in, or out.
That lorry, though. That she knows, at least by it's shape, and she stops to look at it for a while, idly. There's someone on the other side of it clanging away at something, one of those complicated technical tasks that she's always pretended not to find so boring. She's never seen the point of trying so hard with things. People are what's interesting, in the world.
Klaasje pads on bare feet around the side of the lorry, with the silence of a girl sneaking out of her bedroom window, and looks down at the woman she tried to hang next to the man she did. She takes a slow, deliberate drag on her cigarette, tilts her head, and says, in a soft, dreamy husk: ]
Hello, Ruby.
[ OUBLIETTE: A boy once told you that your eyes were brown because you were so full of shit. When you met your eyes in the mirror after, you wondered how he could have misunderstood you so badly. You have never been full. ]
iii. a home
Just one of life's little unfairnesses.
The air has the electric scour of a passed storm. She may not know how she got here (but what's new about that?) but she may as well take a page out of the detective's book. Keep an open mind. See what falls in, or out.
That lorry, though. That she knows, at least by it's shape, and she stops to look at it for a while, idly. There's someone on the other side of it clanging away at something, one of those complicated technical tasks that she's always pretended not to find so boring. She's never seen the point of trying so hard with things. People are what's interesting, in the world.
Klaasje pads on bare feet around the side of the lorry, with the silence of a girl sneaking out of her bedroom window, and looks down at the woman she tried to hang next to the man she did. She takes a slow, deliberate drag on her cigarette, tilts her head, and says, in a soft, dreamy husk: ]
Hello, Ruby.
[ OUBLIETTE: A boy once told you that your eyes were brown because you were so full of shit. When you met your eyes in the mirror after, you wondered how he could have misunderstood you so badly. You have never been full. ]