Sunday morning, a call from the middle of the Adriatic. My parents, a struggle to interpret at the best of times, now victims of telephonic time slip. Our words bouncing there and back via Norway. The last scrap of sense surrendered - they answer my questions before I’ve asked them.
And later, from the foot of the mighty mountains he calls, seducing me with details of snow irrigation and new world wines of cash machines and high altitude climbs. And when we say goodbye I ask him to give my regards to the condors.
5 comments:
what to say Jem, direct communikation can be a blessing, but then again maybe an old fashion letter would give more in the end
Like the continuation of the daydream theme from last time. Lovely phrases- telephonic time slip, words bouncing there and back, answer questions before I've asked them.
I like not being able to tell which is daydream and which might be observation here.
the world becoming a global village renders a surreal feel to communication... and it reflects well in your words...
May I say that I like your writing? I think you write with vivid imagination and a natural grace.
beautiful, I love this blurring of the lines between daydreams, reveries and "live" time.
First time I visit, enjoying your writing.
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