The Pure Life of Dreams

September 22, 2025October 19, 2025

A Party for High School Girls and Boys, a Bath and a Boat

The party for high school girls and boys was up some stairs in a hall on the island but when we arrived there we were already late; somebody had hung a wooden sign from the lintel ‘No Boys’ with an ‘X’ underneath. Presumably girls were still allowed and they were trying to stick to a quota.

July 1, 2023July 3, 2023

From Scottish Rites to the Hindu Temple

I am standing with Siobhan, Malik Qureshi and his new wife in the forecourt of the hotel and temple grounds. His wife is beautiful, a petite Indian woman with ~~the typical South Asian coloring~~warm South Asian coloring and delicate hands, dark straight hair and thin, especially compared to Malik who has become quite portly since I last saw him, thicker now that he is much older.

But Malik retains his jovial manner and I am quite jealous of his new bride. He reminds me of his Scottish roots as we stand together making introductions and then his wife leads me away over to one of the temples, a Roman-like columned building to show me around.

“What is your last name?” I ask her, but her response is not clear.

“No I mean your original last name,” I repeat.

But I still can’t make it out though she too goes on to assure me of her own Scottish heritage.

A light spitting rain starts as we walk over to another building where she has to perform a family ritual, part of the marriage ceremony . She wants me to come and it feels quite illicit. I cannot suppress a little desire for her despite my being Malik’s friend.

We climb the steps to a new Hindu temple fronted by square grey concrete panels, through the gaps of which I can see red alters and other religious goings on.

On the top step she squares up to one of the gaps and propels herself with both arms in one graceful movement into the temple. A blur of red and orange sari disappears behind the right side panel before she turns around to motion me in.

I try the same manoevre but I am bigger than her and not as fit, and I struggle to lift myself over the step and through.

“I’m going to need some help,” I excuse myself.

Then I try to angle myself in, instead of approaching the entrance full on as she did. But still it won’t work. And Malik’s new bride puts a fireside log in the gap between the panels so that I can grab onto the log instead of having to push myself up from the step. But that won’t work either.

And then a man who would be a priest comes over from the left side near the altar, his thick square hands open, palms up, in front of me. I see only large pudgy hands with thickset carved life lines; they fill the gap between the panels, as if to give me something to hold.

Goddess from the Sri Circle Maramma Temple via Wallpaper Flare

May 18, 2023May 18, 2023

Hiking the Spanish Trail

We are staying at one of Lizzie’s friend’s houses in Turkey, a person who identifies as they/them. And once we are settled in, I think to wander around. The others want to hang so I go off by myself, climb the rocks round back of the house. And at first it is quite straight forward, a path clearly laid out through a pink translucent landscape, going up into the hills.

April 21, 2022July 26, 2025

Duck is Nearly Run Over by a Bus

We found a duck.

He stood on our bench in the corner of the diner and looked eye level directly at me. He had small round bead eyes, a white semicircular bill and he stood tall on wide webbed feet.

The duck was very cute, was covered in what looked more like white fur than feathers. I wanted to pet him but I was afraid he might bite.

Caren Nicole gave me a white bath towel to protect my hand but though wary, I stroked the top of his head without using the towel. And when I held it up to him he bit into it, held the soft towel in his bill, while I continued to stroke him. It was to show me that he wouldn’t bite.

“We got to get him out of here,” I said, so we we left the diner and he followed us out into the park.

At first I did not think he would follow us, but when we coaxed him he kept up. We passed a group of people having a cook out on a park bench and Caren Nicole cried out, ”God I can’t stand that.” She pointed out one of the guys, “acting all happy when he’s always mean at work!”

We continued through the park until we hit the road that we would have to cross. And we were crossing at the roundabout with the duck slightly ahead of us when a red double decker drove into our path.

The bus driver could not see the duck and we cried out, ”Noooo…! Mind the duck!”

The duck panicked, got confused and the bus driver span her steering wheel around to avoid him, only to spin the bus round in circles instead. And the duck tried to turn back but the bus was now in the way and hid him from view. I watched as the duck twisted his foot, slow motion, as the tire drove over it.

“No!” I cried in pain.

Then the bus drove on, with the duck left standing, startled, in the middle of the road. He had a tire mark, a streak, across the grey webbing of his right foot; otherwise he was unharmed.

“Thank God!” I said.

We brought the duck back to the pavement and put him in a kid sized Radio Flyer wagon. You could see immediately, he was happier there.

“I think my kids’ Jewish kindergarten will take him,” suggested Caren Nicole, so we started out for their school, pulled the wagon along, with the duck stood up straight in the back.

Once we arrived, we had to take him up three big concrete steps to the entrance. At the top, the door was open and I could see a long brightly lit hallway. Soft, yellow lighting, it looked inviting and it made me hopeful that they would take him.

I announced to the duck, “Hold on… we got to go up some steps.” Then I tilted the wagon so that we could get him up.

As we climbed, I sang ”bumpity, bumpity, bump!” and the wagon bumped up each step, until we reached a black childproof gate at the top. But before we could open the gate a boy, dropped off by his father, bounded up the steps, and pushed past us.

Perhaps we could follow him in, I thought.

Photo by Maren Winter via Wikimedia Commons

October 11, 2021October 22, 2022

Supermarket Eggs and an Ex

At the supermarket buying eggs.

I’m walking around with a girl I used to go out with. She has long black hair, greasy or unwashed I am not sure which, but I do not recognize her and besides, she’s in her twenties; she has a new boyfriend now.