Masks

Fish jumping out of the river - salmon, going up to the sky.
It's lonely, like that village in Austria with the hill walkers and the river and the mountains with snow.

The water was refreshing and cold. That strange child's room with the doll looking out. The window with view and the goat with the bell walking around, lost.

But it all went, just like that woman who came to my mind earlier with the black hair and the glasses and the children, who always gave me a lift.

He's coming apparently. It doesn't interest me, after Shanghai and all the uproar about it, and then what.

Only so much reading before you go mad.

That little cottage by the foot of the mountains with the sea and the old man - was it Carlingford? Sitting by the fire and reading Gide and remembering the other farmhouse.

The one in Donegal with the woman and the stove and that goat that could open the gate. That picture in the hall of him when he was a boy, with the lovely teeth and the smile. But the model thing didn't really stick.

Remember N saw him with his yellow teeth and yellow skin? Well I guess that's what smoking does.

That creepy woman with the grey hair on the bus, standing over me, reading the advert. And her friend, with the long glossy hair and the lipstick who looked like a witch.

I saw her in forestside last week.She looked straight at me.

But Belfast isn't the same anymore, looking back. It's always looking back to when I was here before because its all gone. Maybe there's an alternative Belfast with yellow sunshine, and churches, and bells, and swifts.

I mean that group, alway pretending, always pretending.

The A--. spinning around and round. The forest, the dream with the singing and the dancing and the light. When the clock disappeared and she said "My ego has been completely shattered" on that morning train, in white, looking at all the people.

Coming back to W's on that sunny afternoon, nearly a year ago. And I had thought about them and their family and how sad it must be.

That little boy with the cheeky smile who ran and hugged me when I came back but I felt awkward because I didn't know the protocool. Following J about the sports hall. The boy with severe autism who used to cover his ears and scream. He would run up to you and clasp and look into your eyes, and laugh like he was possessed.

And that time I saw him in the graveyard with the old man and A, running out from behind a tombstone.

Brighton. That house with the music and the cooking and the screaming child. The bookcases with the faces looking out.

She was on fire all the time, every moment exaggerated. Brimming energy and happiness, despite the child, and the screaming. T. slinking about like a mouse and the chats in the kitchen that went on all night.

But yet I never cooked, or finished that monopoly game.

And now being back here, even if they are smiling.

 That room with the photos and all the memories, sitting in the conservatory as if it never went away.

Whitehead train station today with the sun beaming down and the gulls floating about. My eyes closed behind sunglasses.

Sitting on the steps of the School of Education it was so cold and bright in the evening sun. Those people in Dukes with the sunglasses laughing and I sat there and saw those days standing out with them smoking, and that 'Out Out' poem by Robert Frost came up on my phone.

And I thought about playing on the steps with R. when I was a child. The bouncer told us that story about how the stone was haunted and we freaked out and couldn't sleep.

But his house was weird anyway with the floor boards creaking and that picture on the shelf.  I stood on the tail of his cat and it screeched and yelled and I nearly died.

Remember the dream in that hotel in Perth with the taxi driver? "You're tripping mate".

The heat and the bike, cycling along the sea in the morning. The vantage point looking out over the bay and those markets with the lights, the insence and the tarot cards. The palm trees and the beach with the stars gazing up. The tropical smell floating through the warm night air.

Then that street in Singapore with the swells of coloured tapestry. And I was looking at the model of Ganesh and she said, "Don't go home, stay".

And I woke up, back where I had started.