Liquid Dreams and Magazines

Among the dust and dirt, that is when liquidity sets in.

Barking crows, neurotic coo-coo birds who neither find restful sleep nor allow others to peacefully dream. Screaming children in constant need of attention. The adults look on, smiling, doting on their little-me mobbing the quiet.

Waves. She wished for waves. Waves of blue, green, grey, swishing and washing the ocean beds into life. Into relief.

Instead, restless sleep was granted to her.

Alice turned once more. Her bag lay open on the floor, sun-glasses, note-book, camera and gadgets spilling out. A loose leaf of paper with an email address she no longer remembered who it belonged to. She wondered if it was supposed to be some encounter for the magazine.

The magazine! Damn! The assignment she suggested still had to be done. Late boozy nights and dimmed lights were leaving traces of forgetfulness. Or was she avoiding the encounter at all costs, liquid dreams being her excuse?

Because, you see, Alice did work. Alice did have her own income. Under the layers of her bohemian cottons and silks, hidden in the wildness of auburn hair, she kept her closest secret. She had been born with a ticking tocking brain that made intellectual use of her travels and desires. Her writing had begun in a local newspaper; with time her unsettling pieces made their way into the magazine where she free-lanced.

Tick tock whispered the clock.

Craw! Craw! yelled the crows.

Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Who are you, demanded the mindless bird.