Dark clouds hang on the light sunk sky
as if they wanted to tell the almost unbearable gleaming of the horizon
to straighten up and behave.
They are heavy and fluffy like cotton wool
like they were dipped in black coffee.
The wind which comes from the west
carries the salty and damp scent of the Atlantic and
whips my dark red curls around my head and into my face.
I have to turn my head away so that the skeins
don’t cut into my eyes.
Its cold my mother would say.
I find it just right - its the perfect balance between the warmth and cozyness
of my sweatjacket with its smudgy orange colour which has seen much better days
and resembles the kerry evening sky.
And the severe but still soft, almost caressing touch of the wind,
keeps me from drowning in a heavy and delusive bubble.
exactly the right mix.
I am awake. Fact.
More then I ever was.
My eyes feel heavy.
They can hardly resist the peer pressure of
that overwhelming desire
of simply wanting to close them.
Closed and open again.
Overbearing the longing.
to rest, so deeply
and to crawl into the warm and intimate shelter
of resleepst and its confederates.
But my eyes are open widely,
almost ripped open.
It hurts a little bit
until I notice that its not me
or the salty taste of the air.
Its much deeper.
A sharp pain,
which is kind of sweet,
which lets me sense myself,
which are resting on the damp and cold rocks.
There is something else.
Something which lets me tingle like thousands of needles.
I got a part of this unutterable, simple and wild landscape.
Or is it the other way around?
I dont know
The only thing I know and feel is,
love you Kerry!